For Every Star In The Sky
by AkashaWinters
Summary: Young Harry's childhood circumstances change dramatically when his Aunt becomes critically ill and his Uncle dies. Harry, age nine, is sold to the Wizarding world, where he must learn to become an Artisan. Complications arise, chaos ensues. HPSS,AU,Novel
1. Wish Upon A Coffin

**Summary: **Harry's childhood circumstances change dramatically when his Aunt becomes critically ill and his Uncle dies of a heart attack. Harry, age nine, is sold to the Wizarding world. Bought by a well renowned Artisan House in Wizarding London, Harry must learn, not only about magic, but how to become a successful Artisan in a competitive and sometimes cruel environment. Complications arise; the new modern Wizarding Britain is at the centre of a change that threatens the Artisan way of life. To make matters worse, the Minister for Magic has declared a new bill to be passed that will require all Artisan students to take a number of wizarding subjects at Hogwarts. Chaos ensues and poor fourteen year-old Harry is only three weeks away from his Debut! Will he be able to hold it altogether? Or will a certain, off-putting, grumpy, annoying, Potions Master, distract him by intently watching his every move? AU, HPSS, Non-cannon, Novel-Length.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of the Harry Potter world. JK Rowling owns the Harry Potterverse anyone who doesn't know that should be exiled to Mars, I make exceptions only for poor penniless people in remote corners of third world countries, who cannot read and don't have the money to buy the overly priced one – thousand paged books. Also I feel I must credit Arthur Golding who wrote the book 'Memoirs of a Geisha', which also strongly influenced this fanfic. I take no credit for my work, it is all the work of the amazing author, this is just a fun re-write. I make no money from my poor attempt at fan fiction and will remove it should I be asked to do so.

**For Every Star In The Sky**

**by AkashaWinters**

**Prologue**

A great Seerer once told me that my life had not turned out the way destiny had intended it. Perhaps it was the the moment Voldermort had murdered my parents that it had all gone wrong. Maybe it was when I was handed over to my muggle relatives as a baby, or maybe even the moment they chose to sell me into a life of magical slavery. My life, the Seerer had told me, could have been very different. With my natural magical prowess, I could easily have attended Hogwarts and become a Wizard. I might even have been one of the best. But I was not a Wizard, I was an Artisan.

**Chapter 1 **

**Wish Upon A Coffin**

Petunia had fallen very ill when I was five. I had only vague memories of when she first became sick, but later I remember the many arguments between her and my uncle Vernon over her medical fees and huge debts as she became more and more frail. I remember the day the bailiffs had come and reclaimed the house at Privet Drive and then the council flat in London that smelt like sour milk. Things had only gotten worse after that, and then when my uncle had died of a heart attack, that was when things changed.

I remember the day of the funeral very well, it was like a lifetime pressed into a handful of hours. It was a day I would never forget.

My Aunt, who was already very gaunt-looking and sickly pale from her illness, had gained an added waxy look, her eyes sunken from all the tears. She had screamed when the paramedics had covered the body, a blonde lady in a green jumpsuit at her side, fruitlessly trying to console her. After they had left she had gone silent, collapsing into the coffee stained couch and remained there staring sightlessly for three days. The only sign of life were the droplets of water falling down her checks. Not even Dudley's frantic questions, then hysterical whimpering, could awaken her.

Early on the fourth day, I had ventured into the kitchen to eat, only to discover Dudley had already finished what little food we had left. Even the old tin cans that Petunia left stashed under the sink for when we had no money, lay empty on the counter. Glancing into the lounge, I could see Petunia asleep on the couch and I could hear Dudley's snores from the room next door. The whole situation seemed so desperate that I couldn't bare it any more. Quietly as I could, I grabbed our only kitchen chair and dragged in over to the back door. Climbing on top and standing on my tiptoes, I managed to undo the bolt at the top of the door.

The door made a faint creaking sound as I opened it, and I glanced around nervously to see if i'd woken anyone. No noise came from the flat, so I quickly slipped outside and shut the door behind me. We were on the fifth floor of a very large block of flats. I was standing on the balcony corridor that ran along the front on the flats. It was still dark outside. Leaning over the balcony, I watched the autumn leaves falling from the trees in the park next door, illuminated by street lights. A strong breeze shook the branches and I shivered, I didn't own a jacket and my only jumper, which was meant for school, was thin, with holes in the elbows from overuse.

A flickering light caught my eye, it was coming from a bench in the park, where a single dark figure sat huddled from the cold. Swiftly, I ran down the corridor and the many flights of stairs, across the parking lot and into the park. The figure was several meters away from me, his back to me. The strange light looked like a purple flame and to my astonishment, it appeared to be flickering from the person's hand. Curiously, I crept forward.

Suddenly, the figure straightened and my eyes grew wide as a woman's voice spoke.

"Come here child, I won't hurt you."

Panic immediately overtook my body. I had lived on this estate for nearly four years, I knew perfectly well never to say hello to strangers, especially not in the dark. Images of Teddy Jones came to my mind. His mangled corpse had been found in one of the burnt out cars that we used as a play-house. I remembered a little girl screaming and a boy shouting, and then Dudley pulling me over to the car because he was too afraid to look by himself. I remembered the sight as if it was burned into the back of my eyes and the retching feeling that came every time I thought of it or dreamed of it. The incident hadn't stopped us playing in the streets, most of the adults didn't care, or prehaps they reasoned that it wasn't any safer in their homes. Only a few weeks later a teenage girl had been taken right out of her own flat, a few doors down from the our flat. Gun and knife crime too, were common. Aged nine, I was used to violence and had the good sense to know when to run like hell. On that day, however, my good sense seemed to fail me.

As if I were a puppet on strings, I slowly walked forward and around the bench to stand in front of the woman. To my relief I realised she was a very old lady, probably the oldest person I had ever seen. She had so many wrinkles and so much sagging skin, I thought her face looked almost inhuman. She had only a few wispy streaks of hair and horribly ragged clothes. She peered at me as I gazed astonished at the purple flames covering her hand.

"You're very brave and a bit reckless." She wheezed. "What are you doing here?"

I took a moment to realise she'd asked me a question. "I couldn't sleep, I'm hungry and we have no food."

She looked at me as if I was very slow, then gestured to the flats. "No, I meant, what are you doing here?"

I must have been looking at her as if she was very slow, or maybe a bit mad. "I live here." I replied.

She scowled at me. "Ah," she said.

"What is that?" I pointed at her hand and the flames.

She wasn't looking at me know, she was rummaging through her bag with her non-firey hand now. "Magic, to keep me warm."

"There's no such thing as magic." My response was automatic, because, looking at her hand I really could believe that there was.

"Oh really?" She seemed amused now. "And why is that?"

I grappled for a moment with the question. Everyone knew there was no such thing, but I couldn't really explain why. Then I said, "If magic existed, the world would be perfect, everyone would be rich and my Aunt wouldn't be sick and my Uncle wouldn't have died, my parents would even be alive and I wouldn't be here."

Now she looked up at me, her eyes looked a little watery. "You're not meant to be here," She said gently, "life has not really turned out how destiny intended it for you." At that moment I didn't understand, but later I would. "You are meant for something much bigger." She continued. "Magic, does exist, child, but it can't do everything, sometimes we have to help ourselves. Destiny, too, exists. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here, would I? It just doesn't always work the way we expect it to, you remember that. Sometimes we choose are destiny and sometimes destiny chooses us and it is the hardest thing to know which way around it is, even the wisest wizards cannot know for sure."

I understood only a small part of what she was telling me, but the conversation struck me as very meaningful, as if this was somehow the most important advice I would ever be given. Suddenly, she withdrew a small leather bound book from her bag. "Here she said," Handing it to me. "You keep that with you, always. When you can read well enough, you read it and it will help you. That is what I dreamed, that is why I am here. Take it."

I examined the book. The leather cover was heavily stained and had a scaly texture, a metal clasp held the pages together. There was no title.

"What is it?" I asked. "How can it help?" I couldn't imagine a book helping me. I couldn't imagine anything, or anyone helping me and yet this strange old woman was trying to, somehow.

The old woman smiled at me sadly, ignoring my question, she looked up into the night. "Look up at the sky," she told me.

I did as she asked, although I didn't know what I was looking for. I glanced back down at her, but she was still looking up. "What are we looking at?" I asked.

She was silent for a moment and then replied. "The Stars."

Looking up, I could only see a few stars, for it was growing lighter and unlike Little Whinging where we used to live, London was a very bright city and the lights often blocked out of the starry sky.

"In the dead of night, when you feel most alone,most lost and afraid, look up at the stars, for they are sacred and they will guide you." I listened to her voice as I watched the twinkling lights so very far away. "Some people believe they are the lights of those who have left us, their souls watching over us for eternity. Some people believe they are our greatest wishes, held there to remind us when our faith deserts us and our hope grows thin. There are very many stars out there, child, more stars than there are people. Even stars die eventually, but for every star that dies many more are born. Some of those stars up there are yours. You should make a wish, so that you will have hope, maybe your family will hear you and help you. Who knows how magic really works, hmmm? Not even the greatest wizards could ever unlock all the secrets of our world."

Gently, she laid her hand on my shoulder and smiled at me. "I am a very old lady, I have lived long past my time." She wheezed. "I have seen so much, but only today do I fulfil my own destiny."

Her deep grey eyes looked long and hard into my face. Then gently she let go of my shoulder, glancing around. It was getting light and the grass was thick with morning dew. "You go back now, your Aunt is waiting for you."

I never knew that old woman's name, why she had dreamed of me, how she found me, or what became of her. Yet, she left a mark on me that day, and I would remember that conversation for the rest of my life.

When I arrived back at the flat my head was in such turmoil that I was taken by surprise to find my Aunt bustling about.

"Where have you been?!" She scolded me. I noticed Dudley was dressed in reasonably smart black clothes and was eating toast gingerly so that he would not get crumbs on them.

Petunia then grabbed me and made me bathe. She scrubbed me until my skin was raw, then she dressed me in the nicest, not too over-sized black clothes she could find from the local charity shop. Her own black dress was a little too big had a bell shaped bottom, which I thought looked horrifically ugly.

After breakfast was over Petunia took me aside and shoved a carrier bag at me. "Pack your things, you won't be coming back here."

I was a little stunned. The way she said 'you' instead of 'we' made me very nervous and I couldn't help feeling something very bad was going to happen. I pulled open the door of the cupboard where I slept and starred at my things. Packing was easy. I had only a handful of clothes and the book the old lady had given me. I didn't bother packing Dudley's old broken toys, or the childish paintings i'd taken home from school. Minutes later I was ready and Petunia dragged us to the nearby bus station. We hadn't had a car in years. Vernon always said it was too expensive.

I barely paid attention as we went first to the hospital, then a funeral shop and then eventually to a nearby church where a priest spoke in hushed voices with Petunia. It wasn't until a Black car arrived and a coffin was taken out that I realised that this was Vernon's funeral. I'd sometimes seen funerals when we watched soaps on next door's TV. It was nothing like I expected. There were only a few flowers, the coffin was a simple wooden box with handles, and we were the only ones there except for the funeral men and the priest. We didn't even sing any songs. All we did was listen to the priest speak, then Petunia said a few tearful words and then we had to go up and touch the coffin. Petunia went first, bending down to lay a kiss on the wood and murmuring something, her face wet from tears. Then Dudley went up, strangely silent for the first time. He put his hand awkwardly on the wood, closed his eyes for a minute and said something I couldn't hear. Then it was my turn.

I didn't know what to say or how to feel. I was sorry, for my Aunt and Cousin, and I was sad and a little scarred of what would become of me. Yet, my family, especially Vernon, had never been kind to me, in fact they'd been almost cruel at times. I thought about the old lady I had met, the book she had given me and the words she had spoken. The words seem to swim around in my head, in a confusing jumble; _'...when you feel most alone, most lost and afraid, look up at the stars...Some people believe they are the lights of those who have left us, their souls watching over us for eternity...For ever star that dies, many more are born...Who knows how magic really works...you should make a wish.'_

Taking a deep breath I placed my hand on the polished wood and closed my eyes. I chose that moment to make a wish. I wished for everything to make sense, for meaning, for hope, for faith, for destiny, for kindness, for love and for one of those stars to be for me.

**AN/:** I had many influences for this fic. Firstly, obviously J.K. Rowling who is amazing at transporting you to a different world. Secondly, the many HP fanfic writers, particularly the HPSS shippers who have enriched these two characters greatly and have given me the courage to try my own hand at this. Memoirs of a Geisha (both the movie and book) has played a big part in the 'Artisan' Theme that will be explained better later, although I have tried to put my own twist on this. Slumdog Millionaire has inspired me with great culture, imagery and music and helped to bring emotion to my fic, which I find very hard to write. Twilight, which has taught me that any love story is possible. My own love of mythology, magic and mystery has also helped greatly. Constructive criticism most welcome! **Next chapter**...Harry meets magic and starts a new life...


	2. The Price Of Freedom

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of the Harry Potter world. JK Rowling owns the Harry Potterverse anyone who doesn't know that should be exiled to Mars, I make exceptions only for poor penniless people in remote corners of third world countries, who cannot read and don't have the money to buy the overly priced one – thousand paged books. Also I feel I must credit Arthur Golding who wrote the book 'Memoirs of a Geisha', which also strongly influenced this fanfic. I take no credit for my work, it is all the work of the amazing author, this is just a fun re-write. I make no money from my poor attempt at fan fiction and will remove it should I be asked to do so.

**For Every Star In The Sky**

**by AkashaWinters  
**

**Chapter 2**

**The Price of Freedom**

Petunia had waited only long enough for the last flower to be laid on the mound on fresh earth, before press-ganging the priest into looking after Dudley for a while and dragging me to a different part of London.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

Petunia pursed her lips and looked at me as if I were making her do something dirty. "The Wizarding World." She said. The lady next to us on the bus, looked at her a bit strangely.

My first glimpse of the wizarding world was a grimy looking building on Charring Cross Road.. It seemed very out of place squashed in between the modern looking bookshop and record store. Its red Victorian brickwork and many tiny windows gave it a quirky look. We both stood staring at the building for a moment. The bronze lettering above the door read 'The Leaky Cauldron' and there was a wooden sign hanging from iron brackets, depicting a green frothing mixture in a fire-warmed bowl.

I was starting to think Petunia had gone batty with the stress of the funeral and her illness. I glanced at her nervously, only to catch her looking away from me swiftly.

"What's wrong?" I asked, watching her intently. I was getting an odd feeling of both excitement and foreboding. What were we doing here all alone in an unknown part of London, looking at a shabby pub?

She looked up at me sharply for a moment, then fussed with her handbag and grabbed my arm. "Nothing," She said, although she had a strange look on her face, somewhere between terror, anger, and guilt.

In a few short strides I was being swept into the building, across a dark-looking room, past a large stair-case, some tables and a fireplace, then right out the back door into a courtyard. Petunia marched me straight up to the brick wall, which towered far over her head. Without looking at me she said, "Put the lid on the dustbin."

I stood there bewildered, wondering if I should go back into the pub and ask for help, maybe they would fetch a doctor. Noticing my hesitation, Petunia turned to me white-faced. "Do it!" She yelled.

I jumped, and automatically took a step back. My foot collided with the metal dustbin lid making a jangling sound. Hesitantly, I picked it up and placed it on the half-full bin.

Suddenly, a lady appeared wearing a black dress and white pinafore. She looked at me then at Petunia. "Nice weather today." She said.

Petunia didn't even bother to look at her. "Tom says we're expecting snow." She replied in a monochrome voice.

I looked at the Lady then at my Aunt. What was going on? The lady didn't look at all disturbed by the forecast of snow in September. She stepped forward, withdrew a piece of wood from her waistband, and tapped several warn-looking bricks. The bricks made a groaning sound and began to rumble and shift. For a panicked moment I thought the wall was going to fall down on us and I let out a started yelp. But, to my amazement, the bricks continued to re-arrange themselves without a single one falling to the ground. Eventually a doorway formed revealing a bustling street of cobbled stones, Victorian brickwork, and wooden beams. Petunia grabbed my forearm again and roughly frog-marched me through.

The lady in the pinafore, grumbled something about being ungrateful and by the time I'd recovered from my astonishment to reply with the customary thank you, the doorway had shifted back into its original solid wall.

Petunia dragged me passed various shops and buildings, and people in funny clothes until we reached a great blue building marked 'Central Floo Building', next to a magnificent white building: 'Gringotts'. Here she made me step into a magical green fire and say clearly 'Eos Floo', a few moments later I found myself spat out into another, similar 'Floo' building, this time, apparently in a completely different district of wizarding London.

I was bursting with questions by this point, but had the good sense to keep quiet. Petunia didn't say a word at my astonished face and roughly dusted the soot off me and pulled me out of the building into a magnificent heptagon shaped court. For years after, I would stop and stare at it as the sun rose on my way to the academy for lessons. The great white marble statue of a unicorn stood in the centre with cascades of water flowing down its rearing body. Directly across from the Floo building, was the 'Pegasus Academy' its great roman columns leading towards the entrance, a flying statue magically suspended above its rooftop. All around the court are a number of other impressive and important buildings including the Lughna Theatre, where all the greatest Artisan's had performed. Obviously, at the time I didn't know this. All I knew was that the old lady I had met that morning was right; magic did exist.

I was completely dumbfounded and couldn't stop staring at the way the water fell from the top of the unicorn's shoulders, yet didn't actually touch the ground, instead it just disappeared into mid-air. Petunia impatiently hustled me over to what I later found out was the S.C.A.R.A.B (Single Central Artisan Registration Authority Building). Here I was made to wait quietly, as Petunia filled out papers and various people came over to exclaim over me and peer at the scar on my forehead, which I found very unnerving. I couldn't stop my gaze wondering to all the strangely dressed people coming and going. Most wore what I took to be dresses, even the men. One or two wore very pointy hats, like cartoon witches, but it was not these people that astonished me the most, it was the beautiful ones.

Occasionally, a person would walk past in the most elaborately embroidered clothes I had ever seen, with long hair braided up in fancy styles and delicate gold ornaments in their hair. Their forearms and parts of their face had amazingly intricate decorations painted onto them. Their eyes were especially fascinating with plenty of dark make-up and jewelled decorations. They were all so beautiful that at first I thought they were magical female creatures, it was not until I caught two speaking to each other that I realised they were in fact men, or rather older boys. I was blown away. I had never seen a single women as beautiful as they were, let alone a boy. Something about the boys, was amazing to watch. It wasn't just their decoration, it was the way they moved and talked as if they were high in the sky and as light as a feather. I could have sat there the whole day watching the boys go about their business.

After a while, Petunia hauled me out of the seat and took me to a side door. We were then ushered down a short corridor and into a bath room. Petunia told me sternly to do everything the lady told me to and then promptly disappeared. The lady looked about sixty with a warm smile and lots of grey hair. She helped me undress and put my clothes into a grey hamper while a bath was filled. I watched the purple bubbles grow and pop until it was time to get in. She gave me another good scrubbing, but was much more gentle than Petunia had been and asked me lots of questions about my health and what I liked to eat, and any odd things that had happened to me. I told her about the time I had ended up on the roof at my infant school and the time my hair grew back over night, and also a month ago when I had accidentally let the snake loose at the zoo on a school trip including what it had said. She seemed pleased with everything I'd said, except when I'd spoke of the snake. Even then, her smile slipped only briefly. Eventually she told me to get out and dry myself off.

A few minutes later a younger woman appeared in a white robe and handed the old lady a bundle of cotton. This turned out to be the one of the dresses and a small argument ensued as I politely tried to point out to the lady that boys weren't supposed to wear dresses. I quickly learned that they were robes, not dresses, and most magical people wore a form of robe, no matter what gender they were. It was the word 'magic' that finally got me into them.

The robes were plain cotton, with an emblem of a unicorn on the right breast. The under layer was a kind of jump suit of light blue with a high neck line, no sleeves and lots of buttons down to the shorts. The outer layer was white and the sleeves were short, exposing most of my arms. The hem came down just below my knees. The neck was V shaped, exposing the light blue underneath and a silk blue sash held the outer robe together at the waist. Once the old lady had looked me over thoroughly, and tutted at my unruly hair several times, she pronounced me done and took me into another hallway where a line of other young boys stood in the same blue and white robes.

"Now listen to me closely, Harry." She told me sternly, but kindly. "When your name is called, you're going to go through that door and walk into the middle of the stage facing the man in the white robe. Answer all the questions and do exactly what you're asked to, Okay?"

I nodded, nervously. I didn't know what was about to happen, but I knew it was something big, and something to do with magic.

"Good," she nodded. "Don't speak unless you're spoken to. Also, there might be a lot of camera's, word must have gotten around that you're going to be here. Just try and ignore them, Okay?"

She didn't wait for me to answer, instead she lent forward and kissed my forehead. "Good luck, Harry Potter."

One after the other, the boys disappeared into the room. Occasionally, I caught a glimpse of colour or sound of clapping as the door opened and shut, but I was in no way prepared for what happened when my name was called out.

A servant opened the door and ushered me through, I didn't even have time to say thank you to the old lady. The next thing I knew the door had closed behind me and a brilliant flash of light blinded me. The noise too, was deafening. I blinked, but every time my sight came back another flash would blind me and so I stumbled forward and nearly fell until a loud bell rang and the flashing and noise subsided long enough for me to get my bearings. It was then I realised I was in a circular room with a stage in the middle and tiered seats reaching nearly to the ceiling. Not a single space was empty. In fact some rows were so packed, they made the audience look like sardines. That's what I realised they were...an audience, and for some reason I was what they were watching. The flashes I then realised were from dozens of cameras of people positioned right next to the door, like they had been waiting for my entrance.

Remembering what the old lady had said, I tried to ignore them and looked toward the stage. There was a slightly raised platform on one side with a elderly man in a silk white robe standing on it. I made my way forward and stood in front of him. He smiled down at me.

"What is your name, please?" He asked me. I noticed a man next to him in another white robe with what looked like a piece of old yellow paper and a feather staring at me. I smiled back nervously.

"Harry Potter." I replied. The words were barely out of my mouth and there was an uproar again until the bell sounded. The elderly man did not seem perturbed, he smiled at me encouragingly.

"Your full name please?" He inquired.

"Harry James Potter." I replied.

There was a shout somewhere from the back of the hall. I turned my head to see a very elderly man stand up from the audience. He had a huge purple pointy hat and a very long white beard. The man in black to his right, with shoulder length black hair, said something to him. He was scowling deeply. An elderly lady with tight-looking lips, who also wore a pointy hat sat to his other side and shook her head in disbelief.

The white man on the stage with me frowned, but nodded to the old man. "Headmaster Dumbledore, you have something to say before the auction begins?"

The man, who was apparently a teacher looked furious. "This is a farce!" He announced. "You cannot simply auction off Harry Potter. He's been raised with his muggle relatives. The poor boy probably doesn't even know what's going on. Not to mention that you require the proper permission, and add to that, it was his parents dying wish to have the boy properly educated at Hogwarts to become a wizard!"

My ears pricked up at that, had he just said learn to become a wizard? The white man, however seemed most offended and apparently so did half of the audience, although there were plenty of 'here, here's' for the teacher's outburst too.

"First, Headmaster Dumbledore, I resent the implication that there is anything improper about the magical education that the boy will be receiving, undoubtedly, he will secure a place at one of the best establishments in the world." The man replied, he continued in a dangerous voice, "Unless, you are inferring that the title he will gain will be in some way inferior to that of a wizard?"

Dumbledore shook his head and was about to speak, but the white man cut him off.

"As for proper permission, I can assure you we have all the correct signed paperwork form Mr. Potter's Aunt, Petunia Dursley. While Mr. Potter's parents may have expressed a wish for him to attend Hogwarts, it is Mrs. Dursley, and only her, who has the right to choose his future . I'm sure his parents would have been very proud to see their son become such an important and revered part of society. In fact, it is a well known tradition for orphans such as Mr. Potter to enter into this status and if Mr. Potter was not so famous, i'm sure we would not even be having this conversation. If you have any further queries?" The white man seemed impatient now.

The headmaster seemed very sad all of a sudden. "It seems that if what you say is true and if this is truly Mrs. Dursley's wish, then I cannot interfere as the law permits it."

Finally, the white man turned back to me. "Mr. Potter, do you understand what's happening?" he asked.

I shook my head.

He sighed, as if it pained him somehow. "Mr. Potter, you are here to be auctioned off to an Artisan House where you will train to become an Artisan, to privately entertain and perform the many magical arts that have been passed down through generations of tradition. You will belong to that House until you repay your debts to them, then you will be free to continue your career as you please." He looked at me closely, "Do you understand?"

I looked at him completely confused. I was being sold, that much I understood. Did my Aunt hate me that much? I would train in magical arts...that sounded good. I didn't understand what an Artisan was though, but I couldn't help but think of those beautiful men when he said that word. How I wished I could be one of them. Slowly I nodded. The white man didn't look convinced, but nodded and straightened up.

"We will proceed." He said. He asked me a few more questions such as my age, to which I replied nine, and my 'magic'. Most of the questions were similar to the old lady's and I found it easy to answer now I understood what he wanted to know. After a while a great blue orb was brought in and I was asked to put my hands on it to 'measure my power'. Next, I was put on some scales and weighed. Then a snake was bought in and I was asked to talk to it. I did and there was another uproar, mostly from the people in pointed hats. The bell sounded again and when one woman would not be quiet, she was swiftly removed by two men. Finally, the white man nodded and looked up at the audience. "The bidding will commence." He announced.

A pretty woman, not long out of her teens and in the same white robe took my had and walked me slowly around the platform, telling me to look up at the audience and show them my pretty eyes. As we walked the white man started shouting out things that I couldn't understand. He spoke very quickly, saying many different numbers, always increasing. People in the audience waved their hands or bowed to the white man, while others simply leaned over the barrier to peer at my eyes and forehead. Some tried to reach out and touch me, but the girl drew me away from them. When we passed the back of the room I looked up at the Headmaster Dumbledore and he looked down at me sadly. I couldn't look at him for too long without feeling ashamed for some reason, so instead I let my gaze shift to the scowling man next to him, which seemed a safer option. The dark haired man was looking down but as he looked up our eyes met and I felt a jolt run through my body, soft of like electricity and my scar started tingling. While my eyes were a brilliant green, his were a deep onyx, like a precious gem. As the scowl left his face, I thought he looked fairly handsome if somewhat unkempt. I was both relieved and disappointed when I had to walk forward breaking the eye contact.

Within a few minutes, the bidding was over and I was made to stand for a moment by the auctioneer and a woman called Mrs. Pendragon, who had apparently bought me, while the cameras blinded me again. Then I was swiftly ushered back out the door by the young woman who handed me back over to old woman.

"Dear me," She said looking me over. "You look a little shocked, you were in there an awfully long time. Well...what did you make and who bought you?"

I stammered, trying to get my thoughts together. "Erm...Mrs. Pendragon, only I don't know how much for."

The old lady seemed pleased. "Mrs. Pendragon is the Mistress of one of the best Artisan Houses in London. I'll bet she paid a lot for you. Not only are you famous, but those lovely eyes and hair are so unique."

I was taken to a large, white building two streets away called 'The House of Pendragon' where I was greeted by many people, including 'house elves', whose big ears and large eyes made me gasp. I asked repeatedly about magic and what an Artisan was and where I was, and even where my Aunt was, but I couldn't seem to get any answers. Despite this, I couldn't bring myself to be too concerned. The whole place seemed to have a dream-like quality, and I was almost convinced that I would wake up in our London flat at any minute to find Dudley have put slugs down my trousers again. I decided I would enjoy the dream while it lasted.

I was given another bath, which was apparently tradition, and a new set of robes, this time with sleeves to my elbows, and a hem to my mid-shins. The under-robe was a crimson red and outer-robe was black. The hem of the sleeves and the bottom of the robe had a think band of crimson around them. Instead of a unicorn, a dragon was embroidered on the left breast. Apparently this was the symbol of The House. The maid explained to me that I was to wear these except when I was sleeping. She also told me that they were black so the dirt wouldn't show up so much because they understood what little boys were like, but she also told me in a very severe voice that it did not mean I could get my robes dirty.

Afterwards the maid, called Tia, took me to an office where the woman from the auction sat behind a large oak desk, several rolls of yellow paper and leather bound books scattered about her. Mrs. Pendragon herself was a rather stern looking woman, who's smile made her look like someone had just trodden on her foot. She had ample amounts of rich brunette hair, which somehow didn't match the wrinkles on her face. However, despite her obvious age, she was a pretty woman and was very well-kept. The clothes she wore, although fairly plain, shone like silk, and she wore a few golden rings on her right hand.

"Take a seat, Harry" She said, as Tia closed the door behind me.

I did as I was told and let my eyes wonder around the room as she packed her papers away. The room was probably the size of our whole London flat. The walls were mostly lined with shelves of more leather bound books and half open trunks filled with the yellow papers. Where there was free wall space, several stunning paintings hung, mostly of the elegant boys I had seen, but the occasional one was of a building or street. The one just above Mrs. Pendragon's head was of the Unicorn statue and my eyes shifted to the window, where I could see the street that led the the real statue. Looking back to the painting I was amazed to realize the water in it was actually moving, like the real water it portrayed. Looking closely at some of the others I could see trees swaying in the wind and birds flying in the distance. The tiny figures of people on the street were even moving about too! Finally my eyes came back to one of the beautiful boys, who was even more highly decorated than those I had seen at the auction building. The boy turned his head slightly towards me and winked. I gasped in surprise.

Mrs. Pendragon cleared her throat to get my attention. "Mr. Potter, I am a business woman." She told me, "This House is a business, and you are now the property of it." Her expression seemed stern and I wondered if she was trying to scare me. However, she continued, "This House is also a family and you are now part of it, do you understand? We are now your family."

She looked at me as though she expected a reply, so I nodded, but then frowned. "What about my Aunt and Cousin?"

She told me to call her Mistress and then glanced over my head, I didn't know what she was looking at. "They are legally no longer your family. Your Aunt chose to sell you to me. Your Aunt may visit you if she wishes, but I doubt she will."

It might seem a harsh thing to tell a nine year old boy who has just been taken away from his family, but I quickly realised that everything she said, she said for a reason. Here she had been trying not to give me any false hope, and to reinforce the fact that The House was now the only family I had. Of course at the time all I could think was that Mrs. Pendragon had said nothing about me visiting them. After a moment of silence, I asked. "Mistress, Why did she sell me?"

It was a question that had been bothering me since I had first realised I was being sold. I had never much liked my Aunt, who was a sour being, even before she became ill and had been very harsh to me during my childhood, but I hadn't thought she hated me enough to sell me.

Mrs. Pendragon, perhaps seeing my distress, replied. "She doesn't hate you." She looked as me closely, then explained. "It's more of a case of liking herself more." I was still confused, so she asked. "I believe your Aunt was very ill? Cancer or some such?"

I nodded. I had heard the word cancer before, I had no idea if this was what she had though. I would never find out the actual cause of her illness. In fact, I would never see her again. My memory of her in the bath room telling me to do as lady said, would be the last I would have of her.

"I believe muggle, that is to say non-magical, medical care is extremely expensive and there are many ailments that magic cannot cure. Perhaps your Aunt had no other means of raising such a large sum of cash for the treatment she required. I payed a very very large sum for you Mr. Potter, that money may save your Aunt's life."

I looked at her in surprise. The thought that I might actually be helping my Aunt and the fact that she didn't hate me, she really had no other choice, made me feel a lot better about my situation. Later in life I would realize that Mrs. Pendragon was probably just trying to be kind when she said this, as in reality, there are many other ways of raising a large sum of cash other than selling off your only nephew into a strange and foreign world. I wondered if the reason my Aunt never came to visit was because she felt guilty, or perhaps she was simply scared of the wizarding world, or maybe, I suspected, she just didn't care.

Mrs. Pendragon clicked her fingers and a house elf appeared making me jump, the house elf placed a glass of orange liquid in front of me and a cup of herbal tea in front of Mrs. Pendrgaon. She looked back up at me again, after taking a sip.

"In fact, Mr. Potter" She continued. "I bought you for 3000 Galleons, a record sum, far outbidding even the great Roma Prince in 1810."

I had no idea what a Galleon was, and I had no concept of money since i'd never had any. I couldn't imagine why anyone would pay a lot of money for me. Then I remembered that I was to be trained as an Artisan and asked Mrs. Pendragon what one was.

Mrs. Pendragon smiled at me and asked me what I knew about magic and my parents, to which I replied, "Not very much."

I heard how my parents had really died, how they had been murdered by an evil wizard and how I was able to do magic like them. Mrs. Pendragon explained a great many things to me in the office that day, but she never really did explain to me exactly what an Artisan was.

**AN/: **I had some fun working out a price for Harry. Using the HP Lexicon website I worked out 3000 Galleons = £15,000. This is 1G=£5. We know that Galleons are supposed to be worth more than pounds, but the books also seem to suggest that Wizards on the whole are richer. Since money will play a small part in my fic I decided to lay down some common money facts for myself e.g. The average Wizard earns £15,000 per year (3000G) (this is for someone like a shop keeper, less than the British average, but I figured most stuff would probably be a lot cheaper). Hogwarts tuition is about £1,200 per year (200G) and Artisan tuition is £2,400 per year (400G), double the price. For the purpose of this fic, I decided that Harry's money, left to him by his parents, is under lock and key until he is legally an adult. I hope I'm not throwing too much information at you at once! Enjoy the next chapter.


	3. The Pleasure of Company

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of the Harry Potter world. JK Rowling owns the Harry Potterverse anyone who doesn't know that should be exiled to Mars, I make exceptions only for poor penniless people in remote corners of third world countries, who cannot read and don't have the money to buy the overly priced one – thousand paged books. I take no credit for my work, it is all the work of the amazing author, this is just a fun re-write. I make no money from my poor attempt at fanfiction and will remove it should I be asked to do so.

**Chapter 3**

**The Pleasure of Company**

Living at The House took some time to get used to. The house itself was light and airy and not at all cluttered, which I liked after having lived in a cupboard in our dingy London apparent for so long. My room was very large with two big beds with fluffy pillows and a large en suite bathroom and a mirror that talked to you and a walk in dressing room. I shared the room with a boy called Peter who I came to think of as my brother. Peter had russet brown hair, cute freckles, blue eyes and was very likable. He was only two weeks older than me and had been at The House nearly all his life.

Peter took it upon himself to acquaint me with every aspect of life at The House and the names of all the house elves and maids, which there were many and often very strange. I discovered that there were nine actual 'family' members. These included; Mrs. Pendragon, who was in charge, which was why she was named after The House, her brother Almus, an ex-artisan, who was hansom and very kindly and taught us for evening lessons, and The House's two Artisans and Almus's son's, Alcedo and Ardor, and two other, older adopted students called Ares and Aphrodite. I asked Peter about Almus's wife, but all Peter said was that it was never mentioned.

In my first months, I had been too amazed to discover a magical world outside my mundane muggle reality to feel any sort of resentment for my loss of freedom. Then, later, I felt the House had become my family, I was looked after well and one day I would hopefully become a rich and famous Artisan, performing for the very top of Wizarding society and my freedom felt like a small price to pay.

When I try to explain this to muggleborn wizards, they often have trouble accepting the concept. Words like 'slavery' are often tossed about, but in reality this is not how an Artisan sees himself, nor how a wizard should see an Artisan. It is true that I belonged to an Artisan House and I would have to repay them to gain my freedom back. However, I was not simply a servant, I was training to become an Artisan, one of the Wizarding world's greatest traditions and mysteries and a very respectable title. An Artisan, you see, is an entertainer, a male performer who is accomplished in a great many magical and non-magical arts and whose talent is paid for by the hour. The most successful Artisans may earn up to 6 Galleons an hour, more than some wizards make in a day. This came at a great price though as yearly tuition cost double what a wizarding student might except to pay at Hogwarts. If the Artisan Houses did not exist, most Artisan students could not expect to be able to afford such a life. For this reason, Mrs. Pendragon once told me to think of The House as my sponsor, of which I would be free once I had earned enough money to repay them.

Many less successful Artisans took a great many years to repay their House, but both my teachers and Mrs. Pendragon insisted that there really was no way I would be unsuccessful. The Mistress went as far as to say that I was the best business move she had ever made. I couldn't help being a little apprehensive, all the same.

I was now a month shy of celebrating my fifteenth birthday and would soon become a Debut Artisan, where I would gain my 'Artisan' status and perform under the watchful eye of my Mentor, until I finally earned my independence and became a Master Artisan.

I had butterflies in my stomach every time I thought about my first public appearance and my concentration kept slipping in my lessons. As the thought appeared, I realised I had in fact let my concentration slip again and the most hideous sound erupted around me as I stubbed my toe on the polished wooden floor.

"Pay attention Harry!" Mr. Manaito, my Salto teacher admonished, rapping me on the head with his long cane. Us students called him Mr. Potato, because he had a bald tanned head, which looked a bit like a potato. As for the awful noise, it hadn't come from my teacher, but from the shimmering air around me.

This was called a magical vortex and was created by the gold bands of metal than were woven around my hands and feet. The bands were worn around the wrists and ankles and wove up between the middle finger or toe. They were decorated with many precious crystals and were one of the most precious items money can buy. They belonged to The House and should I ever damage them I could never hope to be able to afford to repay their worth. Fortunately, the noise was not from damage, but was in fact just from my poor movements.

Salto bands were designed to be performed. For example, the movements the body makes will create a magical sound as the Artisan's raw magic is channeled through the bands and into the vortex, this type of dance is called Melosalto, 'songdance'. I also studied Lumosalto, 'lightdance', which used a different type of Salto band to create coloured rays of light in various patterns. With a great deal of practice the two forms could be performed together in a stunning duet, or a horrific display of clashing colours and offensive wailing in the case of Artisan students like me and Peter.

I could tell that Peter was barely holding back a giggle as I hopped around on my sore toe causing further wailing noises. Peter's body started to shake as his giggle intensified and sharp spikes of purple started to clash with the sunrise orange ripple he was supposed to be creating.

Mr. Potato shook his head in frustration and was about to admonish us more, but fortunately for us, the bell rang to signal end of class. Quickly, Peter and I packed away our Salto into their beautiful mahogany cases and made a bid for freedom out the door and down the white stone corridor until we spilled out of the Academy and onto the courtyard, laughing insanely. I lent against one of the great marble pillars to catch my breath as Peter clutched his side, nursing his stitch.

"God, we're awful." Peter laughed.

"We're not, it's just...we can't help it if we're too excited to concentrate!" I grinned.

That beautiful smile that I loved spilled across Peter's face as he turned his head up into the summer sun. Being two weeks older that me, Peter had even less time before his Debut. He seemed nervous, but not as nervous as me. I had never been fond of being the centre of attention, which is an Artisan's main aim. Peter however, thrived under all the attention. With his talent and charming looks, he was destined to become a very successful Artisan and had I not been around, he would undoubtedly have been Mrs. Pendragon's favourite. I think sometimes he resented me because of it, but no more than a brotherly resentment.

Wandering through the pristine streets of Eos we settled at our favourite café for lunch. The café was a favourite with the Artisan's as it overlooked a nice stretch of the themes and we could look across the water at Diagon and watch the wizards wandering around in their billowing robes and pointy hats. In the evening it became a restaurant where many Artisan's visited with clients and students were not allowed, but during lunch we very rarely saw Artisan's entertaining as our lunch break was relatively early. Today however, as we were making our way through our sundae's we saw two Artisan's we recognised with a group of what were clearly Wizards from the style of their robes.

I nudged Peter's foot. "Look." I said, keeping my voice low and nodding in their direction. Peter looked over being annoyingly obvious and only beamed when one of the men caught his eye. I turned red with embarrassment, but snuck a quick glance at the table anyway.

The two Artisan's were Alcedo, and Aphrodite, who was now a Debut Artisan to Alcedo. Aphrodite was extremely beautiful with flaming red hair, a very pale complexion and very red lips. He had first made his Debut almost two years ago and was now nearing seventeen. It was unusual to remain a Debutee for so long, usually you turned professional in about a year. However, it was a widely known, but unspoken truth, that Aphrodite had the good fortune to be very beautiful, but the bad luck to be exceptionally untalented. He therefore needed longer before he had gained enough skill to survive on his own as a Professional. While this delay was costly to The House, because he couldn't make as much money while being a Debutee, thanks to his exquisite beauty, he was bound to make a large sum for his Private Debut.

Of course, it had taken me many years to learn all about the various stages of an Artisan's training and what it all meant. Finding out exactly what a Private Debut entailed was something i'd only found out recently, and even then I still was still a bit sketchy on some of the details. As far as Peter and I understood, it involved some kind of auction and then a very large party to celebrate afterwards, hosted by the person who had won the auction. This person was almost always a wealthy wizard. When i'd first been told this I thought it meant we were to be sold off to the wizard, which didn't seem to make much sense. Almus had corrected me fortunately and explained that actually we'd still belong to The House unless we repaid all our debts. This didn't seem to make any sense either as we couldn't understand what was being sold.

When Peter had asked Almus, he replied "The pleasure of your company."

Peter had turned bright red at that, but I was still confused, surely that was what wizards normally paid us for. Almus had just rolled his eyes and told me i'd find out when I became a Debut. I had hounded Peter about it for weeks afterwards, but he always maintained he didn't know what Almus had meant either. Obviously, now I realise Peter had just not wanted to be the one that would have to explain to me about sex.

What had caught my eye today was the fact that Aphrodite wore the most splendidly decorated outfit I had ever seen him in. As a Debut, the outfits were much flashier than a Professional Artisan's as they are designed to attract attention. Even so, full regalia, was reserved for very special occasions only. Me and Peter exchanged a significant look.

Glancing back at Aphrodite, I couldn't help the intake of breath as I took in his face. He looked every bit the Greek goddess he was named after, or at least how I imagined a Greek goddess would look. Peter, I noticed, was looking past Aphrodite to the hansom blonde man, who was transfixed by the Debutee. Peter had a wistful look on his face, as if he wished the man was looking at him instead. My eyes shifted to the man's right, passing over two men until my eyes landed on a dark figure that I recognised. He was the man from the auction, the one who had sat next to the headmaster scowling.

This was not the first time I had seen him since that day. I had seen him several times in Diagon Alley when I had been running errands. He had never noticed me though, until one day when I had walked right into him as he was coming out of the Apothecary down Vesper Alley, in west Eos. My thirteen year old clumsy body had fallen to the floor and I sat there dazed looking up at the familiar man. He wasn't looking down at me, instead he was scowling and dusting himself off. "Watch where you're going!" He griped, angrily. I flinched, my eyes flickered down to a cut on my arm, where I had fallen into the door. When I looked back up, he was scowling down at me, but when he looked at my face, his expression became unreadable. For a moment we both stared at each other, oblivious to a woman trying to get passed. Then all of a sudden, the man reached down and grabbed me by my good arm and hauled me to my feet. He was surprisingly strong and I didn't know what to say. I was about to mutter an apology when he gently took my injured arm and drawing his wand, muttered a spell healing the cut instantly to my amazement. He had then turned and disappeared without another word.

Just as I was about to look away, he looked right at me and I felt that same jolt I had felt that day in the auction room. We must have been starting at each other for some time because the blonde man said something and gestured towards us. Quickly, I ducked my head down and hoped they would ignore us, however a moment later a waitress came over and told us the blonde gentleman had asked us to join them for a moment.

Peter seemed delighted by this and beamed, until I pointed out we both looked a mess from Salto practice. Peter swore and then reached up removing a clip to let the lower half of this long brunette hair, which had been kept in a tight bun, cascade down his back to his waist. My own hair, which had only been tied in a messy nest on the back head, now had many long strands falling out of it. I just rolled my eyes, turning away from our audience for a moment to wipe the sweat off my brow and re-arrange my robe. When I turned back, Peter was already making his way toward them, his most charming smile in place. Moving swiftly to catch up I pulled at his arm, nervous at our audience.

"Why, Alcedo." The blonde man said, smiling charmingly. "Aren't you going to introduce us."

Alcedo turned towards us looking us up and down as though he thought we were an absolute disgrace, which was probably how we looked. "These are my two youngest brothers. Brothers, this is Mr. Malfoy."

Peter nodded his head politely, smiling all the while, and I did the same, trying my own smile, but I was too nervous to be charming with the dark-haired man watching me.

Alcedo continued swiftly, "You'll have to excuse their state, they've been at school this morning."

The blonde man didn't seem to mind, although the others didn't seem impressed. The dark-haired man remained expressionless, but I noticed that Alcedo was looking uncomfortable. He'd made a point of saying 'school', not 'Academy', as if were young children.

"Really, and is this the young Harry Potter?" He asked me, smiling at me in way that somehow didn't quite reach his eyes. I nodded politely, trying not to meet his eyes. Peter looked annoyed at me for steeling his lime-light. "And how old are you boys now then?"

Peter spoke up. "I'll be fifteen in two weeks." He said proudly, then added. "Harry's not fifteen for another month."

Mr. Malfoy's gaze changed to Peter as he spoke, he seemed very interested in him all of a sudden. "Really? And how are you enjoying your lessons, I hope you're practicing hard...becoming a Debutee is a big transition."

Alcedo was looking even more concerned now, but quickly placed his hands on Aphrodite's shoulders and beamed proudly, drawing the attention of the group he said. "Yes, it's it amazing to think that in a couple of years time these two ruffians may become just as accomplished as our Aphrodite here?"

The man next to Mr. Malfoy, with a big quivering mustache spoke, "Yes, and with you as a teacher and Mrs. Pendragon's eye for beauty, I'm sure they'll be just as talented. I say, what a difference a couple of years makes for these young boys to grow up and become such stunning creatures." He was eyeing Aphrodite up, in an admiring kind of way, like he was an outstanding piece of artwork. Aphrodite, who was a very shy person, smiled sweetly back at him. Personally, I thought that he had always been that beautiful, it was just his outfit and make up that made him stand out. Next to him we looked positively plain.

Alcedo was smiling again now that the attention was back on Aphrodite and was gesturing with his eyes for us to leave. Peter, who was never one to be left out of the attention and seemed for some reason very taken with Mr. Malfoy, didn't show any intention of leaving just yet.

Before he could say anything though, the man directly next to the dark-haired man lent forward and said, "Oh, I don't know, Goyle, I think so many of these boys look a lot older then their true age, don't you think Severus?"

His question was directed at the dark-haired man. Mr. Mustache was looking at Peter, who did indeed look nearer sixteen than fourteen, 'Severus' was looking directly at me as he murmured something in response.

"Yes, well, hopefully you might have the pleasure of their company after their Debut ceremonies, however for now I'm afraid you'll have to beg their leave." Alcedo spoke firmly.

Mr. Malfoy looked a bit annoyed. "Alcedo, let them stay. I'm sure they're old enough for our conversations if they're only a few weeks shy of becoming Debutees. Besides I find them rather charming. I could give them a word or two of wisdom."

"Lucius, you're offer is very kind," Alcedo replied, apologetically. "Unfortunately, they're going to be late for class and as students they are not permitted to entertain clients anyway, as you well know. As I said, I'm sure in a month or two they would more than happy to have the pleasure of entertaining you."

Mr. Malfoy seemed a little put out, but sighed, "Well, boys, it's been a pleasure meeting you. I do hope I'll be seeing you again." With that we both nodded politely and left.

"So?" Peter asked, as we rounded the corner into the court yard.

"So what," I asked, stopping to pull a stone out of my boot.

Peter rolled his eyes, impatiently, "So do you think he liked me?"

I looked back at Peter's anxious face and smiled. "Yea, he liked you. But..."

Peter scowled, he looked like a spoiled child when he did that. "But what?"

I looked back nervously, biting my lip. I wasn't sure I should say what was on my mind or not. I decided, since this was Peter I was probably safe. "He seemed...off somehow. His smile, it didn't reach his eyes. The way he looked at you too..." Of course, now I was a little older, I understood about sex, or at least the general idea. I understood that men, and in some cases woman, were meant to find us enticing. As students though, men rarely looked at us that way, it was considered improper. Those that did usually had a look of admiration mixed with desire, like Mr. Mustache had when he had looked at Aphrodite. Lucius Malfoy however, had a look of hunger in his eyes like I had never seen before. The way a predator might look at his prey. It scarred me a little to think of a man looking at me like that.

Peter just made an exasperated noise. "Honestly Harry, you're such a prude!" He grabbed my arm pulling me towards the Academy. "He was admiring me though wasn't he? I wasn't even dressed up or anything! He must have really liked me."

Peter seemed delighted and I hated to burst his bubble, so instead I asked. "So who do you think they were?"

The look Peter gave me made me feel like an idiot before I'd even said anything. "Only some of the most influential wizards in Britain!" I had the good sense to look embarrassed for not knowing it. "You're going to have to read the papers more often."

I didn't like reading the papers, mostly because they usually had something about me in them, even though all I ever did was go to school and run the occasional errand. I really had no idea what the fascination about me was, but it had never faded. Besides, we only had two papers. One was the Daily Prophet, a wizarding paper that often gave false stories about me and another was the The Eos Weekly, which generally only covered happenings in the Artisan district.

"Do you think they'll bid for Aphrodite?" I asked, thinking of his coming Private Debut.

Peter nodded, looking sour. "Malfoy will, defiantly. If he likes Aphrodite enough he's got the money to out bid almost anyone."

"What does he do, to have so much money?" We were entering the school now, glancing at the magical clock over the entrance it read 'Hurry up!'.

"He doesn't do anything, or rather he's a governor for Hogwarts, he votes on rules and things. It's a very important title and he's very respectable. But his money comes from inheritance, he doesn't work for it. The Malfoy's are one of the richest families around." Peter paused at the end of the hall turning in a different direction to me. "I'll see you in next class."

I nodded as he left. Peter, who was not especially magical, was a reasonably talented artist and studied painting, while I had never progressed from stick men, had exceptional magical talent, and studied the elemental arts. Peter often complained he found the hour away from me boring, but I knew he really loved painting. I was also glad for the break as my elemental lessons were extremely hard and Peter's presence probably would only have served as a distraction.

**AN/:** The names of the characters have influence from many areas. The Artisan names are mostly influenced from Latin or Greek Mythology. Almus (Which is not supposed to have any relation to Albus) means 'nourishing, kind', Alcedo is the kingfisher, Ardor the flame, Ares the God of war and Aphrodite, the Goddess of beauty and love. Harry and Peter will also have Artisan names soon, as will be explained in the next couple of chapters. You'll just have to wait to find out! I hope you're starting to get the feel for the Artisan world, with both some new and old characters. Please keep reading and reviewing!


	4. The More Things Change

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of the Harry Potter world. JK Rowling owns the Harry Potterverse anyone who doesn't know that should be exiled to Mars, I make exceptions only for poor penniless people in remote corners of third world countries, who cannot read and don't have the money to buy the overly priced one – thousand paged books. I take no credit for my work, it is all the work of the amazing author, this is just a fun re-write. I make no money from my poor attempt at fanfiction and will remove it should I be asked to do so.

**Chapter 4**

**The More Things Change**

Only the most magically talented students studied Elemental Arts, the ones of us who would have made exceptionally good wizards. Elemental Art was the ability to draw on nature's magic and control it. It was unlike a wizards magic, which draws only from their own magical core and is channelled through the use of a wand. Instead, the Artisan draws on the magic around them and uses their own core magic to control it. It is one of the most difficult of magical forms, so difficult in fact, that there were only two of us out of the whole Academy studying it as a speciality. I asked my teacher when I first started lessons why wizards didn't study it, he answered that it was too difficult for many wizards and was almost impossibly difficult once a wizard had learned to use a wand. On top of that, it wasn't overly practical, not like spells and charms that could be used for day to day needs. It was very impressive though.

My teacher, Mr. Libero was a very patient man, unlike my Salto teacher. He was perhaps in his nineties and could do the most incredible things such as create water from the air, create electricity and even cause small earthquakes. Inora, the other student, was in fact already a professional Artisan. He must have been in his mid-twenties and was probably the plainest-looking Artisan I had ever seen. He was a good student though and studied hard. While he could freeze and heat water, cause it to move, and change shapes, he could do very little with air or earth and nothing with fire. Ares, one of my older 'brothers', had also studied the art and had showed very promising talent. At the age of fifteen, when I first began classes with him, he was already on his way to out-doing Inora and had an exceptional talent for fire. I had not seen Ares, however, for many years now. He had stopped coming to classes only a year after I had arrived, when he had disgraced himself and been thrown out of The House.

Peter had discovered Ares with a man in The House not long before his Private Debut. Ares, who had been frantic over the discovery, had told Peter that if he told anyone he would get the wizard he had been seeing to curse him. Terrified, Peter had not told anyone until I had confronted him and asked why he was so upset. Giving in, Peter had told me, but I didn't believe him, saying that Ares would never do such a thing and he shouldn't lie. Peter, hurt and angry, had snuck into Ares chambers and waited until the wizard had arrived and taken a picture as evidence. Only he had been discovered before he could get away. I could remember the shouts as Ares and Peter fought over the camera until Mrs. Pendragon had intervened. I remember watching through the gap in the stair rails as the Mistress looked at the Polaroid picture, then the shouting and cursing as she grabbed Ares by the hair, dragging him down the hall and ordered Almus to cane him. The screaming went on for a long time and when Ares looked at me I had to look away. The next day Ares had gone, his room was empty and not a word was said except that should either of us do anything like that, we would get much worse.

When, in my first lesson, I learned just how difficult elemental magic was, I was a bit disappointed. Inora and Ares had been studying elemental arts since they were only five. I was already nine when I entered the Academy and had never studied magic before at all. As it turned out, before the age of ten I was already far beyond Inora's ability and by the age of eleven, I had outdone Ares. When, at the age of twelve, I had shown good ability in all four elements, Mr. Libero declared that I was displaying 'outstanding talent' and doubled my lesson time. It was unusual to specialize so young, but all my teachers were in agreement that such a rare talent should be harnessed. Mr. Libero went as far as to say that he believed that I might easily achieve a greater level of ability than him.

Now at the age of fourteen, even the most critical, such as Ardor, could not doubt that I had a talent almost unheard of. I had not only mastered the basics of elemental arts, but had began to interpret the magic in my own way. I was beginning to learn to control the elements on a molecular level, far beyond my own teacher's talents. I could create earth, fire and water from just the molecules in the air, bring plants to life and change the weather. I had even begun to explore with the raw elemental magic, trying anything and everything I could think of. I was flourishing beyond anything even Mrs. Pendragon had hoped for. Already, there had been many articles in the Weekly Eos about my abilities. Although most of these were very flattering, since elemental art is seen as one of the most prestigious talents, it was the occasional article in the Daily Prophet that began to worry me. Or rather, it worried Mrs. Pendragon, who recognizing my unusual level of ability early on, had tried to keep it out of the wizarding press. "Wizards fear what they don't understand." She said, by way of explanation.

It was therefore perhaps inevitable that at some point there would be a major article in the wizarding papers about me. I had just been hoping it wouldn't appear until i'd become a professional Artisan, for fear of wizarding superstition damaging my Debut prospects. As it so happened the major article I had been expecting arrived in the papers the very next day.

I was late for breakfast, Peter was already hurriedly eating his toast and Mrs. Pendragon was tutting as she read her paper. Almus gave me a meaningful look before pushing the paper over to me. Peter gulped down his pumpkin juice as I read the article.

_Boy-who-lived beyond teacher's control?_

_Since the boy-who-lived was enrolled at the Pegasus Academy, he has been singled out as an exceptionally talented student, displaying outstanding talent particularly in the Artisan practice of 'Elemental Arts'. This unusual form of magic, traditionally only taught to registered Artisans, is known for it's use in delightful displays during formal entertainment and is usually no more than a bit of light hearted fun. However, exclusive sources suggest that Harry Potter has progressed at an alarming rate, to the point that he has began to explore areas that even his teacher, Mr. Libero (the most accomplished Elemental Art Professor in two hundred years), has admitted is beyond his ability and understanding. When questioned further, Mr. Libero would say only that his student was "very gifted" and that he was "honored to be teaching him". But how is it possible to provide proper tuition for a student that has already out-done their esteemed teacher aged just fourteen? Further more, Mrs. Pegasus, the headmistress of the Academy, admits that Potter's talent is so rare that they cannot be sure how much further his abilities will expand. Mr. Willsberry, head of the Department of Education has concerns about the possible danger Potter may present if his abilities are left unchecked. Speaking on Friday, at a Ministry meeting discussing this very subject, Mr. Willsberry said:_

"_There is a reason why wizards use wands, they are designed not only to aid and magnify power, but also to enforce limits where necessary. Elemental magic is raw and wild and relies solely on the Artisan's ability to control it. For this reason it can be very dangerous. History has taught us this the hard way. We have only a limited amount of understanding on the subject. I recommend a full investigation into the area, determining the best course of action for the education of students of the elemental arts and the possibility of a new educational bill to be presented for the Ministry's consideration."_

_This revelation comes after many Ministry officials have voiced growing concerns about certain areas of magical education over the last six months. "I'm concerned about equal opportunities." One ministry official told the prophet. "All magical children should have the right to the same basic level of education." Another told us, "We should consider those with unsuccessful Artisan careers, what do they have to fall back on? There are very few jobs in Eos for those that are not born into this life, often they have little more to look forward to than a lifetime job as a servant. With at least a basic wizarding education, these children have a brighter alternative." Some officials have gone as far as to say that those of the highest magical potential should not be allowed to train as Artisans at all, but there should instead be a law that they train as Wizards. With many magical families seeking better opportunities abroad, our own magical population has been dwindling over the past four decades, the potential lack of exceptionally talented Wizards to fill vital positions such as Aurors, MediWizards and Professors, is beginning to concern the public._

_However, a spokesman for the S.C.A.R.A.B (Artisan Authority) argued that "the Artisan way of life is part of our magical heritage and dates back to 2000BC and the Elemental Art has existed since long before Wizardry. Artisans are an established part of the magical community and attract not only a large amount of tourism, but keep alive some of Britain's greatest magical traditions and mysteries." When questioned about those students with a less than bright future, the spokesman replied. "It is unfortunate that all schools have under achievers, even Hogwarts (an institute for top Wizards), with those destined to fill societies most important jobs, will produce a few stall sellers and servants. Without servants, the Artisans Houses, and Theaters would not function." When asked to comment on concept of Wizarding Education for Artisan Students, the spokesperson told this reporter that the idea was "ill thought out and not at all feasible", going on to say: "An Artisan Student must spend a great amount of time in Study, there really isn't time for them to be attending two schools at once. Most students will never have any use for Wizarding subjects and live perfectly happily without a wand. Not to mention that it is a known fact that those competent in Elemental Arts are likely to never harness the ability for wizardry." When asked about Mr. Potter's specific needs and the potential danger of his power, the spokesman refused to comment, saying only that: "All forms of magic have created the greatest Wizards, Mage's and Sorcerers in history, both good and evil. We should not single any one magical form out, particularly when concern is founded on lack of understanding and prejudice."_

_This reporter is yet to be convinced however, and eagerly awaits the verdict of a new Magical Education Bill expected to be submitted later this week._

Peter looked over my shoulder, "I like that photo, except my hair's a mess."

The photo Peter was pointing to was a full length shot of me and Peter standing outside the Academy. I was leaning against one of the white pillars at its entrance, I looked slightly out of breath and my hair was in disarray, long black strands falling out of the untidy knot I'd made on the back of my head. Peter stood next to me his head thrown up into the sun, grinning madly. I recognised the scene, the photo had been taken only yesterday as we had run out of our Salto lesson. We had managed to escape before the storm of students and there had only been a few people milling around the court, I could not remember anyone with a camera.

Noticing my frown Peter said, "They must have been standing by the Floo building, I don't remember seeing anyone."

I nodded. Peter was right, the picture had been taken so that the Water fountain was caught in the edge of the shot, the rearing unicorn curling up over our heads. The droplets of water reflected the bright light giving the whole shot a magical look. It was beautiful and simple at the same time and I secretly resolved to cut it out and stick it into the Leather scrap book I'd received as my very first Christmas present at Pendragon House.

Mrs. Pendragon let out a growl making us start and look over. She slammed the paper on the table and clicked her fingers. A house elf appeared with some strong smelling tea. She took a long sip, then turned to her brother. "This is very bad timing."

Almus, always calm, no matter what the situation, frowned slightly in contemplation. "Yes, but perhaps inevitable."

Ardor, who had looked like he'd just woken up, stumbled into the kitchen. "Morning." He said, blearily pouring a cup of tea. Then he looked up sharply at the tension in the room. "What's going on?"

Mrs. Pendragon just shook her head, Ardor looked at Almus, "Father?"

Almus sighed. "We may have a ... complication." Peter and I exchanged a glance, I rarely read the papers and didn't really understand what was going on. Peter too, seemed confused. "There's to be a new bill submitted to the Ministry later this week concerning magical education."

Ardor just shrugged. "And?"

Almus frowned at Ardor's shortness. Unlike his brother Alcedo, who was in many ways similar to Almus, Ardor was short tempered, grumpy and often cruel. In fact, it often surprised me to see Ardor in his 'Artisan Personality' as I liked to think of it, when Ardor put on a regal air and was as charming and pleasant as his brother.

"It may be problematic for Harry and Peter's Debut. In fact, it might cause much deeper problems with Artisan education in general." Almus replied.

"Of course we don't know the contents of this bill yet" Mrs. Pendragon cut in. "or whether or not it will be passed. We can't take any chances, not with the boys so close now. It could ruin their chances and after all the money The House has put into them." The Mistress stood up and the house elf snapped into existence with a briefcase for her. "I'm going to speak with the Authorities, see if I can find out what exactly this proposed bill will entail. They've been keeping it all very quiet." She turned to fix her gaze on us. "You two are going to be late for lessons." She snapped, then turned and walked swiftly to the door, her heels clicking on the flagstones. "Don't talk to anyone!"she shouted over her shoulder and slammed the door behind her.

Peter and I hurriedly grabbed our things and made for the door. "I want you back here for lunch, Peter." Almus called, "We're expected at the tailor."

It was not until morning break, that Peter and I finally found time to talk. Sitting on a bench in Eos park, I watched as a little girl threw bread for the ducks.

"What does it all mean?" I asked, Peter around my apple.

Peter threw his core into the hedge and looked at me deeply for a moment. I wondered what he was thinking about, the look was so intense. "You." He said, surprising me.

"What do you mean?"

Peter sighed and shifted, so that he too was staring at the duck pond. "It's because you're so powerful, and because you're famous. The Wizards want to make sure you're safe. They want to control you."

I looked startled, was it really true? I couldn't help remembering the day of the auction, when I had first arrived in Eos and the teacher, which I now knew to be the one and only Headmaster Dumbledore of Hogwarts. He had said it was my parents wish to be educated as a Wizard. I hadn't put much thought to what life had been like if I'd gone to Hogwarts. I was just happy to find out that magic existed and that I was going to be a part of it. Now I thought about my parents, I wondered what they'd think of me now, if they would have wanted me to be under the watchful eye of the wizards or not. Probably. They were after all, Wizards themselves. I thought about the locket I had in the mahogany box under my bed. It had been given to me by a shop keeper in Vesper Alley. The old man had been kind enough to tell me a little about my family, things that I'd never known.

My Aunt Petunia, a squib, had worked for the Antiques shop for four years, when she was in her late teens. She and Lily, my mother had moved into the attic there when their parents, my grandparents, who were also squibs, had died in a theastral fever outbreak. When Lily graduated, she moved in with James, my father. Petunia also moved out when she married Vernon, although she continued to work there for a time and used the attic to store some of her belongs best kept away from her Muggle husband's eyes. When Voldemort had killed my parents, my Aunt had become distraught and blamed all Wizards. She ceased all communication with the Wizarding world, blocked off her fireplace, and left her belongings to collect dust.

The locket contained a picture of my mother and aunt. When I had opened the locket, that was the first time I'd seen my mother. I had no memories of her at all, nor my father. All I ever remembered from before the Dursley's was the green light.

"Oi." Peter called me out of my day dreams. "Were you listening?" At my guilty look he rolled his eyes. "I said, Its not just your fault."

I rolled my own eyes and stuck out my tongue. "Right, thanks." Like I could help being famous, or talented. I hatted the fame, and on days like today, I hated the talent too.

Peter grinned, then sobered up. "I mean it. Alcedo says there's been problems for a long time. I've heard him talking about it before. Things are changing."

I frowned. "But, what exactly is going on... I don't get it."

Peter's brow creased in concentration. "The Ministry of Magic is trying to put some control onto magical education. They already control Hogwarts and the lesser Wizarding day schools. They want to control the Academy too. At least...I think that's what its about."

"So...what? Like they'll just have Wizards teaching us Salto? How's that going to work...Wizards don't even learn Salto." I asked in confusion.

Peter shrugged. "I didn't say it made sense, did I?" He smiled, "Maybe they'll have us learning Wizard stuff." Peter mimicked swishing a wand around, "Flugimithingy, bubbledibog, make Harry turn into a frog!

I laughed until I had a stitch in my side and was gasping for breathe. When we'd finally stopped laughing Peter looked at me a little sadly. "You know what?" He asked. I shook my head. "The sad thing is, that if that had happened when we were younger, I might have actually been looking forward to learning Wizard magic." He looked away from me now, his face emotionless. "Now, all I can think about is my Debut."

I looked at Peter as he starred across the pond. He seemed young and old at the same time. It reminded me that we were growing up fast; our childhood was nearly over. Peter was right. Anything that might disrupt our Debuts was bad news. The pang of nervousness appeared in my stomach again as I thought about it. It was less than four weeks away now and all I could do was pray that everything would go smoothly.

**AN/: **The plot thickens... I look forward to writing more about Harry's magic. Yes I bigged him up a bit, but while I might right him as very powerful, he's going to have plenty of people getting in his way, not to mention trouble controlling it once he gets to Hogwarts. I also wanted to recognise Harry's grandparents, who never really get a mention in Canon. I haven't forgotten James' parents either, they'll get a mention later on. Thanks for all your lovely reviews, please keep reviewing!


	5. Manners Maketh the Man

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of the Harry Potter world. JK Rowling owns the Harry Potterverse anyone who doesn't know that should be exiled to Mars, I make exceptions only for poor penniless people in remote corners of third world countries, who cannot read and don't have the money to buy the overly priced one – thousand paged books. I take no credit for my work, it is all the work of the amazing author, this is just a fun re-write. I make no money from my poor attempt at fanfiction and will remove it should I be asked to do so.

**For Every Star In The Sky**

**by AkashaWinters**

**Chapter 5**

**Manners Maketh the Man**

That lunch I went with Almus and Peter to the tailor and watched as Peter fretted when the tailors took measurements, held up swaths of fabric, and conversed with Almus. Peter turned to me, plucking at the plain white linen that was tacked to him by magic and had pencil marks all over it. One of the tailors was actually a Witch, I found out, and I marvelled at the way she used her wand to make the tape measures move this way and that. Apparently, she worked together with her husband, an ex-artisan to produce exquisite hand crafted Artisan's robes. An Artisan, you see, didn't purchase formal robes very often as they were so very expensive and were instead usually owned by The House and passed around. An Artisan would go to a lesser tailor and have the House's robes magically altered to fit. However, it was a tradition to purchase a personally tailored formal robe for the Artisan's first Public Debut and then another for their Private Debut.

The tailor-fitting seemed to go on for hours and Peter was fidgeting more and more until finally the Witch pronounced him done. We had to race back through the streets of Eos to get back to the Academy and even then we were late for our Customs lesson.

Customs, was probably one of the most boring lessons that had ever been invented. Our teacher too, was extremely strict and made us repeat things sometimes more than twenty times before we got them right. The lesson covered everything from how to walk and talk, which was usually learned at a very young age, to who was who in the Wizarding world, how to make a goblin smile and how to hold your temper while being insulted. Peter had started private tuition only this week in preparation of his Debut. The class was even more boring without him and I was very glad when it was finished.

When we arrived home at 2.30, we had not yet finished for the day. Almus, who was also our teacher, then took us for another two hours of lessons. When i'd first arrived these included writing and reading, nowadays they included anything Almus could think of. Since we turned eleven, we had learned to play Quidditch, a very popular Wizarding sport. Almus had told us that a good Artisan was one who could do almost anything their client might ask of them and do it well. Quidditch was a distinct possibility and Peter and I had taken to it like ducks to water and within no time at all we were learning tricks and impressive stunts and we were both jumped at a chance for a bit of light hearted fun. We were therefore sorely disappointed to arrive home to find Almus waiting with a stack of books on the study table.

At the look on their faces, he smiled apologetically. "Sorry boys, we can't have you injuring yourselves so close to your Public Debut now, can we?"

Peter and I groaned and sat down for a couple of hours of torture. When I excused myself for the toilet, half an hour in, an idea occurred to me and I snuck down to my room. Pulling my mahogany box out from under my bed, I opened it and took out the scaly, leather bound book that had been tucked away in there for years. It was the book the old lady had given me that day, so many years ago. I had never managed to open it. The metal clasp had remained shut no matter what I had tried. I now thought of the way I had grasped hold of the magic and channelled it through my body and out into the locked door I had manipulated in my Elemental Arts class earlier that day. Closing my eyes, I concentrated hard on the book's lock. At first nothing happened and then I could feel the particles shifting until I heard a little click and the lock slid open.

Grinning like a maniac, I stuffed the book down my robes and made my way back to the study room where Peter had his head down in a dusty tomb and Almus was making notes on some parchment. Picking up a large book I slid the smaller book inside it and gently opened it.

The pages were made of thick parchment that had faded with age, particularly around the edges where the light had touched them. The first page had only three words and a line of symbols on it:

_Aurelius Ambrosius. Annus CDLVII._

I had to work hard to suppress my groan. I knew only the little Latin that Almus had taught us, if the whole book was written in dialect I was stuffed. Frowning in concentration I tried to remember what the symbols meant. 'Annus' meant year, I was certain of that and it therefore logically followed that the symbols would be the year. 'VII' meant seven, but that was as far as I got. I must have let out a frustrated sigh because Almus looked up at me with a sharp look and I quickly buried my head back into the tomb. Flipping to the next page, I was surprised to find a paragraphs of writing in a different, but equally unfamiliar language. The interesting part was the that the text was hand-written in an elegant script and every couple of pages was a gap and a figure at the top before the script continued. This was a diary, I realised. The diary of Aurelius Ambrosius.

I signed again and shut the diary, discretely locking it and slipping it back under my robes. Some help that would be, I thought sourly. It wasn't the answers to all my questions, as the old lady had suggested. Instead it was a diary written by a person I'd never heard of, in a language I couldn't read.

Dinner came not a minute too soon and we both tucked in as though we hadn't eaten in days. There was a strained silence at dinner. Ardor and Alcedo had been arguing again. Almus noisily rumpled his paper and gave them both a stern look. Peter rolled his eyes across the table at me and I stifled a laugh. Absent-mindedly I cooled my tea with a wave of my hand. I noticed Aphrodite watching me with a longing, and I flushed red with embarrassment and dropped my gaze. While I was very happy to be so talented at elemental magic, sometimes I couldn't help thinking it was just one more thing that made me different from other Artisans. I was also keenly aware that Aphrodite for all his beauty, was spectacularly untalented and would have given away all his good looks to become only a fraction as talented as either Peter or me. I realised it must be particularly difficult to not only be shown up at the Academy, but also to have it rubbed in your face once you got home as well.

Fortunately, Mrs. Pendragon broke the tension with a change of subject. "You won't be going to lessons tomorrow, Peter. You're to come with me to the temple. It's time for your seeing."

Peter looked up and chewed his lip nervously. Glancing around the table, I could see that the others all looked bored, although Aphrodite looked a little white. The temple, wasn't really a temple. It was a very old white stone building that stood next to the S.C.A.R.A.B in the main plaza. It was the place where every Eos Artisan had their name seeing. The idea of replacing your name with another one was very symbolic for an Artisan and had been done since the very earliest records. It was the first step in becoming a recognised Artisan, the first stage of adulthood.

I had witnessed Aphrodite's name reading the previous year and understood the basics of the ritual. The actual process involved two parts; name seeing and name reading. The name seeing was conducted by a group of the most renowned seers. They often took several days to agree on a suitable name. The name reading then occurred on the night of their Debut, in a private ceremony at the House. I gave Peter a sympathetic, but envious smile. He grinned nervously back, pushing his plate aside.

"I'm so nervous." Peter complained. "I need to do something to take my mind off it." He looked hopefully towards the hallway where the broom cupboard lived. Almus sent him an amused look from over his paper that clearly said there was no way he was going to let us play Quidditch.

Mrs. Pendragon stood, summoning a house elf to clear their plates. "You can both go and help your brothers get ready." She said, giving Peter a stern look. "You're not the only one who has a debut coming up. Aphrodite passed his final test today and it has been decided his Private debut shall take place tomorrow. Tonight he will performing at the theatre."

I exchanged a guilty look with Peter. In the excited nervousness surrounding their own debut's we had completely forgotten that Aphrodite's was so imminent. I studied my brother's stark white face with a sudden sympathy.

"Come on," Almus said gently, a hand on Aphrodite's shoulder. "Let's get you dressed."

Aphrodite rose, shakily and made his way to his room, Peter and I following silently behind. Aphrodite stripped to his under robes and sat facing the mirror. Peter and I sat on the bed and watched in fascination as Almus and are elder brothers worked simultaneously to transform the red-haired boy, occasionally fetching and holding things.

I had of course seen my brother's preparing for clients hundreds of times, but I had never seen an Artisan preparing for a Debut before. When Aphrodite had been preparing for his public Debut, over a year ago, Peter and I had been banished to our room for being too noisy. To see the transformation actually happening in front of my eyes was breath-taking and sent an excited sort of tingling sensation down my back.

A skin toner was applied on Aphrodite's face, neck, arms and feet to hide any blemishes, giving him an even paler complexion. Dark make-up was then applied to his eyes and lips, while a delicate pattern was applied to his neck, arms and legs, in dark ink with a fine paint brush. The pattern was made up of intricate flowers and vines and when it was finished, a gold gilt paste was applied, making the pattern glitter as Aphrodite moved under the candle light. His hair was lightly coated with dragon scale wax and was painstakingly pinned high up on the back of his head in neat folds creating a flower-like effect and a single long plait laced with gold hung from the bottom. A few fine pins and a gold garland completed the headdress. The garland was pinned firmly just above his hair line, with a small blue-jeweled decoration hanging onto his forehead.

Finally, Almus attached two tiny bells to the end of Aphrodite's plait. "For luck." He explained.

When Ardor was satisfied the ink decoration had dried, he had Peter and I stand by Aphrodite and pass him garments of clothing. When he was fully dressed Alcedo pointed him to a full length mirror and I heard an intact of breath. The whole process had taken almost two hours and it had completely transformed Aphrodite. My brother, who was already extremely handsome, could now only be described as exquisite. The look in his eyes had also changed. No longer was I looking at the nervous, untalented Artisan student that was normally my brother, instead I looking at an Artisan who was about to come into his full status as a professional Artisan. In that moment I knew that Aphrodite was ready, and more importantly, his lack of artistic talent wouldn't matter in the slightest. As my customs teacher also said, 'Manners and a sense of self-discipline are what makes a true Artisan'. Aphrodite was destined to become a great Artisan.

That night I lay in bed thinking about my childhood, something I had thought very little on in recent years. I remembered the day of my Uncle's funeral and the wish I had made and wondered if there would ever come a moment in my life when I knew, as Aphrodite had known that evening, that my destiny had arrived. I wondered if I'd ever find that meaning I sought in my life, because despite it all, all the kindness I had received at the House, I still felt there was something missing, that another destiny was somehow still waiting for me. It was silly, I thought, I was happy here, much happier than i'd ever been with my relatives and the magic felt right, but something still didn't quite sit right, it was like I was somehow expecting more. It was a feeling I just couldn't shake.

Sighing lightly, I drifted off to sleep, images of gold garlands and ink patterns running though my head and sound of Peter's rhythmic breathing filling my ears.

**AN/: **Sorry for the delay! Real life caught up with me. I know this chapters a little short and choppy, but there were a number of key things I needed to fit in here and I really want to move the story on...bring on Hogwarts and Snarry! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! I'm glad you're all enjoying this story so much, especially since its such a difficult theme to write. :D Also I should point out again that I intend for this to be a very LONG story, possible a series (once snarry has been established) and don't think I've forgotton about dear old Voldie, I have plans for him!


	6. Defying Gravity

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of the Harry Potter world. JK Rowling owns the Harry Potterverse anyone who doesn't know that should be exiled to Mars, I make exceptions only for poor penniless people in remote corners of third world countries, who cannot read and don't have the money to buy the overly priced one – thousand paged books. I take no credit for my work, it is all the work of the amazing author, this is just a fun re-write. I make no money from my poor attempt at fanfiction and will remove it should I be asked to do so.

**AN/: Because I such lovely reviews and I'm in bed sick, with nothing better to do...**

**For Every star in the Sky**

**Akasha Winters**

**Chapter 6**

**Defying Gravity**

I awoke gasping from a nightmare, my body was covered in a sheen of cold sweet and I felt clammy and disorientated. The nightmare had a murky quality that made me feel nauseous. It was not the first nightmare I'd had like that, I'd been getting them for as long as I could remember, maybe once or twice a year. It was like I was seeing through someone else's eyes, although the images were fleeting and half-obscured and often made no sense at all.

As the images from tonight's dream came back to me, I was horrified and had to dash for the bathroom, emptying the contents of my stomach. Shakily I remembered how I had crouched in the depths of a forest and drank from the blood of a unicorn I had slain. Oh God, I thought as I lent over the toilet again. It was so hideously wrong. It wasn't just the fact that I'd been drinking blood, but the fact that it had been a unicorn: the sole symbol of purity. Unicorn's were highly revered creatures in every magical culture, and the understanding even passed over to muggle cultures to a certain degree. To an Artisan though, a unicorn was much more. Although Artisan's were not religious in the muggle concept, they did follow a set of strict rules and customs. The unicorn was considered a sacred creature to the Artisan, to slay one was to condemn the ultimate sin, above all others. The punishment for such a crime was death, the only crime to still carry the death penalty under English magical law.

It was something that had been drilled into me from the day I had set foot in the mysterious Artisan world. It was the reason Debutees tied their hair up with white ribbons, the reason that the S.C.A.R.A.B. used the unicorn as it's symbol. We were ruled by the them, we aspired to be everything they symbolised; to mimic their elegance and grace, their beauty, their purity. The thought that I had killed one, if only in my nightmare was monstrous and I felt sullied and ashamed.

Shakily I stepped into the shower. I turned the water as hot as it could go so it scolded my skin, in an attempt to wash my impurity away. I felt only marginally better when I exited the bathroom. Glancing at the clock, the outer hands told me it was 5am and sounds from below told me my brothers and mistress had just arrived home. I decided any attempt at further sleep would be fruitless and instead dressed and made my way downstairs.

"Hello!" Aphrodite beamed, giving me an unexpected and enthusiastic hug, "Wha you doin up so early", He slurred, happily.

I couldn't stop the smile spreading across my face as Alcedo let out a chuckle and Ardor grinned like a Cheshire cat. Even Mrs. Pendragon seemed in high spirits.

"I couldn't sleep." I replied, calling for Dippy, one of morning elfs, to fetch us tea. "So, how did it go?" I asked eagerly.

Ardor grinned, throwing himself onto a chair. "Brilliant, he danced like a swan, sang like a lark, exchanged small talk to like a foreign dignitary and drank like a bottomless pit."

Almus laughed, as Aphrodite giggled, "Although, I think all that drinks caught up with him." He said, pushing the boy into a chair.

I don't think I'd ever seen Mrs. Pendragon so happy in her life. "An exceptional performance, and to think we always had such reservations. I take my hat off to you Alcedo for such excellent mentoring, I see a very bright future for you indeed."

Ardor frowned at this, most likely thinking of Ares and his own failed mentoring.

Almus smiled at his son, "Stop scowling Ardor, Ares was always such a wild spirit. I know you have both put you hearts into supporting your brother and what a performance! Congratulations, Sam." He said, softly.

I jumped at hearing Aphrodite's birth name. Although close family and friends were permitted to use a Debut's birth name in private, Mrs. Pendragon was a very firm believer in 'establishing character as early as possible' and frowned upon it. I'd almost forgotten Aphrodite had once been a boy not so different from me, sold to the House as an orphan. He looked so very different now, so happy and content and even though his make-up was flaking as his robes were a skew, he still seemed to radiate beauty and self-confidence.

"Was it a big audience?" I had only ever performed in the Academy theatre for exams and the yearly display. The Lughna Theatre was immense in comparison, it could seat 2,000 people, although many of the private boxes were only occupied for major performances. A Debut's final performance usually attracted a large crowd and was followed by an after party in the S.C.A.R.A.B.'s Main Hall. I could only imagine performing in front of such a large crowd and having to make small talk with so many people, it must have been terrifying.

"A very good turn out." Mrs. Pendragon replied, pouring herself a up of tea. "Not filled of course, but very impressive none the less and we had plenty of interest at the after party. Give it a few hours and the bids will be flying in."

Aphrodite flushed, then gagged as he drank his tea. Almus thrust two potion vials at him. "Drink those, we need you sober and fully revitalised by this evening."

I watched him drink down the potions obediently, pulling a face at the taste. "Drink your tea." Almus ordered. "I'll fetch Tia to help undress you and Dippy will run you a bath. You'll need to soak for a good hour to get that ink off before you go to bed."

I watched as they gradually left the kitchen, even Mrs. Pendragon choosing to take a few hours kip. Soon I was left to myself and I practised levitating napkins while I ate breakfast. I used the magic in the air to create a small wind, causing them to float around the room in a fairly precarious manner. I wanted to be able to do it like wizards did, using the magic within me to move the objects more accurately, but every time I'd tried I'd just caused things to blow up or catch fire. Now I was banned from practising magic outside of class. I floated a napkin higher in a half-hearted protest.

By the time Peter made it down to breakfast I was getting ready to leave, Salto case in one hand and books in the other. "Good luck with your name seeing."

He gave me a sleepy groan in response, his long russet hair falling messily down his shoulders and his robes only half done up. I rolled my eyes and stole a piece of toast and made my way to the Academy. As I entered the main plaza I was surprised to see a large crowd gathered outside the S.C.A.R.A.B. Building.

"What's going on?" I asked a group of students, who were sitting by the purity fountain, watching the crowd.

"That new education bill has just been passed, people are pretty upset because they've kept it all so hush-hush," Said a blonde boy, who I knew from a House across the street. "We're waiting to see if anyone from the authority's going to make a speech."

Glancing around, I noticed the more and more people were gathering in the plaza, and not only Artisan's, there were plenty of Wizards too. "What's it about, then?"

The only girl in the group, probably the child of one of the shop-keepers, spoke up. "They're going to make all students between the age of 11 and 17 take lessons at Hogwarts."

I must have been looking at her like she was crazy, because she suddenly became all defensive. "It's true! Ask anyone! My dad's an Artisan, he says they've been trying to do this for ages!"

I nodded, remembering what Peter had said, "I believe you. I just...it's insane, we just don't have time! What about Debut's? What about Master Artisan's? They can't make them go back to school!"

"Of course they can't," Agreed one of the boys, "Apparently if you gain your Mastership, you don't have to attend. They'll probably make my brother's take their Private Debut's early so they don't have to go."

I nodded again, but still couldn't quite believe what I was hearing. "But we'll have to go?"

The boy nodded, solemnly. "Yes. No way out of it. We have to board too, which I think is just silly, I mean how are Debut's supposed to see clients if they're at Hogwarts months of the year?"

"What about are the Academy though, we can't just stop taking our lessons!" I exclaimed, dismayed. How was I ever going to become a Master Artisan if I had to stop taking lessons at the beginning of my Debut!

"Apparently we only have to take a few wizarding classes in the mornings and we take our normal classes in the afternoons." The boy explained.

"Why do we have to stay there then?" I asked confused, "Surely it would make more sense if we just flooed to Hogwarts for our lessons."

The boy nodded, "Ridiculous isn't it?" He said, fiercely. "Something to do with inter-cultural relations, wanting us to produce a new magical nation 'with greater co-operation and understanding'. I mean what's wrong with the way things are now?"

"It's going to destroy us." A brown-haired boy suddenly spoke up.

We all looked at him in surprise. No one wanted this to happen, but that was probably going a bit far.

The boy had a pensive look on his face. "Think about it. They want us to grow up with wizarding children, to learn their magic and culture. But that's not all they want. They want us to share our culture with them, they want to understand us, every last detail about us. We survive through secrecy and mystery, we use magic in ways they don't understand to entertain them, capture their imagination by creating a fantasy world that doesn't really exist. If they learn all out secrets we'll have nothing left, we won't be Artisan's any more."

A stunned silence fell over the group. Suddenly a camera flash blinded me and when I'd blinked my vision back, I saw a lady with blonde girls and hideous glasses smiling at us. She wore a lilac witches hat. "May I quote you on that, young man?" She asked the boy who had made the revelation.

"Um, actually I'd rather you didn't." He stammered, nervously. People were beginning to notice the reporter and a group was beginning to gather around us.

"How do you feel about going to Hogwarts? Nervous? Excited? Are you scared you might be bullied?" She fired the questions rapidly at them. She turned to me, I was the only one standing and apparently the obvious target. "Do you feel like your customs are not being respected? Do you have something to hide?" She asked, then smiled like Christmas had come early, when I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.

"Ah, Harry Potter. Wonderful! Could we get a picture please?" She didn't wait for my reply as she the floating camera flashed away. Startled, I tried to edge away. "How do you feel about this bill, Mr. Potter? How would you respond to people who've accused you of being the intended target for this bill? Has there been any ill-regard between you and your fellow students?" She smiled sweetly, waiting for a response.

I groaned inwardly, well if my fellow students weren't blaming me before, they would be now she'd put the seed in their head. Not only that, I was starting to feel frustrated and guilty. It wasn't my fault really, I couldn't help it if the wizard's wanted to control my magic, could I?

Seeing my face fall, the reporter jumped at this, "Feeling a little guilty, are we Potter? Would you say that you're dangerous? Do you think your magic could hurt someone?"

More photos went off and there was some jeering from the crowd. Suddenly, there was some jostling and a group of people burst through. A lady, who I recognised to be the head of the Academy, stood at the front fuming, several wizards stood behind her. "How dare you?" She shrieked. "How dare you insinuate such things about one of my students! He's a minor, you should not be interviewing him without his House Mistress present either."

The reporter didn't look at all put off. "He's also the boy-who-lived. People want to hear about him, you can't deny the world their hero."

"Be that as he may, your accosting manner of interviewing is completely inappropriate, Ms. Skeeter." An old man stepped forward in hideously clashing wizard robes. I recognised him from the papers and the day of my auction. I looked around anxiously and was slightly relieved to see that the dark-haired man 'Severus', who I thought was probably a teacher was with him. I then mentally scolded myself for wanting him to be there. I didn't even know him, why was I bothered by it? He looked at me again and once again that feeling of electricity went down my spine. The headmaster glanced at us in surprise as though he'd felt it and Severus quickly diverted his eyes.

The reporter had backed down now, but the crowd had not dispersed, as though they were waiting for the two head teachers to say something further. The Hogwarts headmaster seemed to have anticipated this and turned to the crowd.

"Myself and the head of the Pegasus Academy will be working together to limit disruption to the student's important Artisan training and I assure you we will make every effort to create a smooth transition for both our students, so they may achieve a better inter-school and inter-cultural relationship. It is important to preserve every part of our heritage, customs and culture, particularly something as delicate and elusive as the Artisan. However, we also look to the future for a better cultural understanding the next generation of magical Britain, in the hope of preventing such atrocities that have occurred in recent decades. This magical bill, although not welcomed by all, will help us achieve this goal, but only if we all work together as a magical community to support it."

The wizard exchanged a look with my head teacher and turned to me. "I'm looking forward to seeing you at Hogwarts, Harry. I trust you will do your best to try and make the transition as smooth as possible."

I blinked, confused. Just what exactly did the headmaster think I was going to do? Throw bung-bombs in the corridor? Refuse to attend lessons? If I had to attend Hogwarts, then I would do so, and it was more than my life's worth not to try my hardest at my lessons. It was drummed into us; hard work made a good Artisan, a good Artisan made a free Artisan. "Of course, Headmaster." I replied, politely. "I look forward to attending."

"Of course you do," Muttered Severus, sarcastically. I looked at him wide-eyed, a feeling of hurt welled up inside me. He didn't even know me. Why did he think I would lie? Why did I expect something more from him? Catching my eye, he looked at me for a moment, his expression unreadable.

"Such expressive eyes," Skeeter interrupted, "Do you take training in that too, dear?"

Severus scowled at her and she took a step back alarmed, then recovered herself quickly. "Professor Snape, I believe you have some Artisan associates, will you be attending Mr. Potter's Debut? I believe its in three weeks."

Severus snarled at the lady, he seemed annoyed to have been put on the spot. I looked up at him, I tried not to look too hopeful, but I was useless at concealing my emotions, my eyes always gave me away. Onyx eyes stared back at me, until suddenly Severus looked away as the headmaster interrupted.

"We would be delighted to attend Harry's Debut, it would be very a very appropriate way for us to show our support. It's been such a long time since I've seen a solo performance, it would be our pleasure." He beamed, his eyes twinkling. Severus looked completely taken aback.

The Academy Mistress, interrupted, although she seemed very pleased with the development. "That's very kind of you Headmaster, Professor Snape," She nodded at Severus. "Now I really must insist you boys get to class, you've very late."

Realising just how late we were and how much trouble we'd be in with our teachers, the five of us immediately scrambled for are things and made a dash for it. Hastily making a bow to the headmistress as we passed. "I say," Headmaster Dumbledore exclaimed, delightedly. "They're very enthusiastic to get to class."

The headmistress smiled, smugly. "My students have excellent discipline and understand the importance of their education."

As I brushed passed Professor Snape, someone tripped me up, sending me head first. My Salto box flew from my hand, bouncing off the stone floor, the clasp clicked open and I watched in slow motion as my Salto bands flew into the air. Gasping, I scrambled to my feet. Snape had his wand out, but I got their first, raising my hand I summoned a strong wind. It tugged violently at my robes, but held the Salto bands just above the floor, before they could land. Letting out a relieved sigh, I lowered them gently to the floor and placed them lovingly into their box. Standing up I noticed the crowd was deadly silent, every single pair of eyes was on me. Swallowing, I did the only thing I could think of; I pretended I was in full Debut regalia, my face behind a mask of make-up and held my head up high, made a low graceful bow to Snape and slowly glided away.

Only when I was safely out of sight inside the Academy did I let my shoulders slump and broke into a full run. My heart felt like is was about to pound right out of my chest. How many times had Mrs. Pendragon told me never to use the Arts in public? I was going to be in so much trouble when she found out! Not only that, I'd done it in front of reporters! Knowing my luck, someone had probably managed to take a few shots!

I stopped short of the classroom, lent my forehead against the wall and tried to take deep calming breaths. On the up side, I had saved my Salto bands. Although, I should never fallen over in the first place. My customs teacher would be furious: an Artisan never trips or stumbles, let alone falls flat on his face in public, in front of the press no less. I groaned, eternally embarrassed. I would never have the natural grace Ardor had, nor Peter's public confidence. However, I thought straightening my robes and hair, the astonished look on my soon-to-be Professor's face had been priceless. With a grim smile I opened the classroom door, prepared to take my punishment.

**AN/:** YAY! Snape's going to be at Harry's Debut... :D

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of the Harry Potter world. JK Rowling owns the Harry Potterverse anyone who doesn't know that should be exiled to Mars, I make exceptions only for poor penniless people in remote corners of third world countries, who cannot read and don't have the money to buy the overly priced one – thousand paged books. I take no credit for my work, it is all the work of the amazing author, this is just a fun re-write. I make no money from my poor attempt at fanfiction and will remove it should I be asked to do so.


	7. The Ugly Truth

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of the Harry Potter world. JK Rowling owns the Harry Potterverse anyone who doesn't know that should be exiled to Mars, I make exceptions only for poor penniless people in remote corners of third world countries, who cannot read and don't have the money to buy the overly priced one – thousand paged books. I take no credit for my work, it is all the work of the amazing author, this is just a fun re-write. I make no money from my poor attempt at fanfiction and will remove it should I be asked to do so.

**For Every Star In The Sky**

**by AkashaWinters**

**Chapter 7**

**The Ugly Truth**

It turned out the punishment I received from my teacher for being late was far less than the one I received from Mrs. Pendragon when I returned home.

"How could you be so hopelessly irresponsible!" She scolded. "Giving such a blatant display of magic in public, in front of the press no less! Have you any idea how fragile the relationship is between our two communities is at the moment? Not to mention making a disgrace of yourself by tripping over and managing to be caught on camera!" She shoved the Eos weekly at me, it's front page displaying a large picture of me falling towards the ground, Salto box flying through the air. "As of this moment all of your outdoor privileges are removed until after your Debut, unless me or Almus give your express permission to leave the house and you will do at least ten laps of the house everyday with the tablet on your head, and if you let it fall off, you will double it!"

I groaned. The tablet was a weighted rectangle the size and shape of a book and was a commonly used training aid for balance and elegance of gait, or in this case punishment for clumsiness. I knew it would do me no good to try and argue my case, the punishments were reasonably lenient considering. I knew of many House Mistresses who would still used canings on a regular basis. Mrs. Pendragon always said humiliation worked a thousand times better than pain. After I'd been forced to walk around the house naked for a week for accidentally managing to ruin a set of irreplaceable antique robes, I was inclined to agree.

"I am told that you were very polite to your elders and carried yourself very respectfully after the incident, so for that reason I will not punish you further." She looked me up and down briefly, then returned to her paperwork. "You may go, Harry. Please do not let it happen again."

"No, Mistress. Thank you." I bowed low, even though she was not looking at me, I didn't want to get in any further trouble and exited the office swiftly.

I entered the sun lounge, a light airy room filled with green leafy pot plants and soft comfortable chairs. I slumped down in one of the chairs, taking a deep breath to calm myself. Even after all these years, when I knew that no-one here would ever harm me, I sill half expected to be physically punished for my misdemeanour's or at least thoroughly belittled. Images of my Uncle Vernon flashed back at me, red-faced with rage and back-handing me as a child, or endlessly being called a freak, bad-blood, a faggot. It was silly really, Mrs. Pendragon was a cold person, but she was not deliberately mean, I knew she would never hurt me, at least as long as I didn't do something completely unforgivable. My mind flashed back to the night Ares had disappeared and the savage beating she'd given him. I couldn't help shuddering. Shaking my head I tried to pull myself together, that was never going to be me I promised myself. I looked up as someone joined me, sitting down in a chair next to mine.

"You know," Ardor gave me a considering look. "She's only angry because she's frustrated about this new bill and all the trouble its going to cause. She's not really angry at you."

I shrugged, "Yea, I know. Just can't help feeling guilty about everything and nervous I guess. The bill, making a fool of myself, not being ready..." I trailed off nervously.

Ardor, paused as through unsure what to say then finally opened his mouth to speak. "You know, I know everyone likes to make a big deal out of this and its the beginning of the rest of your life, etc. But really? It's not that bigger deal. Its just a performance, like the ones you did at the Academy, just a new name, new robes, more make up. It's not so much change really, it just means you have to wear your mask out in public from now on, speak to people, and attend parties, but when you come home, it'll all be the same as before. You've got a while yet until things really change, you should try and enjoy it."

I knew what he was talking about, he meant my private Debut, that was when things would change. I thought of Aphrodite, who was undoubtedly still in bed nursing his hangover, but who would soon have to get up and get ready for the his 'special' evening. Maybe Ardor was right, maybe I really wouldn't have to worry just yet about too much. Taking a deep breath I nodded. Apart from the mistress, Ardor was probably the member of our 'family' I knew least well. I knew him as my scary older brother who always argued with Alcedo and was often rude and grumpy, and mean to me as a child. I'd learned to avoid him, especially in the mornings after they'd have a long night out. In recent years he'd become more sober, especially after he'd appeared to come to terms with his mentoring failure with Ares. Ardor had become quieter, more guarded. This was the first time he'd every given me any kind or even useful advice.

"Thanks," I replied, surprised at how grateful I felt towards Ardor for attempting to calm my nerves.

"I know you're probably feeling a bit lost with Peter doing all those last minute practices, I felt the same when Alcedo was preparing for his Debut." He replied.

I nodded, he'd hit the nail on the head. I'd started to feel unexpected lonely this week without Peter's usual boisterous presence.

"So, you want to come help me get Aphrodite out of bed? We might have to throw water over him, he's been out for the count all day..." Ardor had that wicked look on his face that I hoped would never be aimed at me.

I smiled amused, "Sure!"

It took almost half an hour, a hangover potion, and two buckets of cold water to get Aphrodite out of bed and into a warm, clean bath. I then helped Tia lay out garments on the bed and refill the make up boxes on the dressing table until I was called downstairs to help Mrs. Pendragon. I waved to Peter as I walked passed the dance studio, where he was still practising with his private tutor. He gave me a week smile, trying not to loose the rhythm of his complex sequence. Almus was in the medicine pantry off the kitchen moving boxes of salves and potions around and consulting a long list.

"The bidding is about to start for Aphrodite, Mrs. Pendragon would like you to man the fireplace and take any bids through to her office. While you're waiting you can help me check through this list." I nodded. It was the sort of job that one of the house-elves could have done, but I figured his was part of my punishment for being so careless in public and I also suspected my older brothers wanted the privacy to talk. It was an unspoken rule than that certain information about an Artisan's life were not shared with students. I had also come to realise that a private debut was a really personal experience and I was beginning to suspect that I'd actually rather not know some of the details. All in all I was grateful to be doing something.

I used a never-ending pencil to make a note of the numbers of potions Almus counted and tried not to notice when he put aside a collection of potions for Aphrodite including a hangover cure, bruise slave, a minor internal healing potion and pot of unfamiliar clear salve, which I suspected to have no purpose other than lubrication. To my mortification I realised the medicine parlour seemed to have several boxes of said salve, as Almus hastily counted through them. He also put aside another potion labelled with a long latin name I didn't recognise, he then gave it to one of the elves to deliver to Aphrodite. Of course there were also many boxes of potions and salves I didn't recognise; skin toning potions, scar removal, hair shine and growth promoter, nail strengthener, teeth whitener, wrinkle reducer, and hair removal salves. I was familiar with most of these, although they were too expensive for me and Peter as students to use, except on special occasions. It wasn't uncommon to hear of Artisans hooked on beauty potions, many of which had nasty side effects when overdosed or used for too long a period.

Youth potions were especially dangerous and most had been outlawed now, although there were rumours of plenty on the black market. Illegal potion use was such a big problem that spot checks had been introduced by the S.C.A.R.A.B allowing for unannounced illegal potions testing at any given time. However, there were still a few legal minor beauty potions, such as the one I had been given as tradition when I'd first arrived at the house.

The potion I had been given had minutely changed the growth rate of the eyes and mouth, reduced skin ageing, and increased iris colour. It was a specially made one, licensed only for the Pendragon House and available from only one brewer. No-one other than Mrs. Pendragon and the brewer knew the ingredients. The difference was was barely noticeable, especially as a child, however as Peter and I grew into teenagers, more people commented on our 'beautiful large eyes' and 'delicate skin'. I sometimes had nightmares about the potion use, especially after taking a wrong turn down Knockturn Alley and seeing a male prostitute, his skin peeling and eyes misshapen. Almus had calmly explained to me that was what beauty potions did, made people addicted to the beauty and then blinded them to the truth until they could no longer see what they were doing to themselves. I shuddered at the thought. The potion I had been given when I first arrived was the only one I had ever taken and I didn't plan on touching such a potion again. I had even wondered for a while if my food was being drugged, but couldn't believe that Mrs. Pendragon would be willing to endanger her business by using illegal potions.

The flash of the fire bought my attention back to the room. A small white origami unicorn sprung out of the fire galloping through the air on an unseen wind. I plucked it out if from the air as though it were a snitch, careful not to damage its delicate folds and bought it to Mrs. Pendragon. In the next hour I retrieved twenty-one unicorns all made from the same delicate white parchment and wordlessly passed them to the Mistress, who said nothing as she unfolded them and placed them on a pile. When the clock struck nine Mrs. Pendragon came into the kitchen clutching a crumpled white piece of parchment.

"We have a winning bid." She announced. I watched as she scribbled something on a red piece of parchment and swiftly folded it in to a dragon, tossing a handful of floo powder into the fire and calling for the H.A.G. Office (House Auction Guild) in the S.C.A.R.A.B. The pre-spelled parchment became animated once folded and I watched in amazement as the minute dragon came to life, stretching its wings and taking flight into the fireplace. I couldn't help the flutter of excitement as I imagined what it might be like to learn to use magic to make an inanimate object come to life.

"Well?" Almus asked.

Mrs. Pendragon nodded, pleased. "3000G, a very good price indeed." She announced and clicked her fingers to summon an elf asking him to fetch Aphrodite.

I didn't know what to say. I mean what exactly did one say? "Who...who was it?"

Almus smiled, teasingly, at my embarrassment, but answered my question. "We don't know yet. The lots only hold numbers and bidding price. The red dragon you saw was Mrs. Pendragon accepting the highest bidder."

Alcedo entered the room, followed by Ardor and Aphrodite all dressed up in his formal Debutee garb. "It's a formality of course, you obviously wouldn't except a lower bid." Alcedo joined in.

"When do we find out who it is?" I asked. The fire glowed green in answer and another little unicorn popped into being. This one was red. I held my breath as Mrs. Pendragon unfolded the parchment. Unless they were famous, it was probably a wizard I didn't know. I hoped it wasn't anyone I knew...I would feel weird if it was one of the shop-keepers in Diagon Alley or something.

"Mr. Lucius Malfoy." Mrs. Pendragon read. No one looked particularly surprised, Aphrodite looked a little white although I wasn't sure if that was just the make up.

"Well that's not surprising." Ardor confirmed. "He's a good customer and you're exactly his type Aphrodite."

Alcedo nodded in agreement. "He's paid you enough attention over the last year to make it obvious and all it took was a little push. If he has a good time tonight, you can almost defiantly guarantee regular custom from him for years."

Ardor gave a smirk, "If you're lucky you might even make it to his favourite list."

Aphrodite didn't seem to know how to respond to this and was looking more white by the second.

"Oh for God's sake, pull yourself together." Mrs. Pendragon snapped, a little harshly. "You're done very well so far, only a few more hours and this will all be over and done with and you'll be a fully licensed Artisan. A few more years and you might even have paid the House off."

Almus took sympathy on the young man, obviously fighting to hold it together. "Here," he said holding a potion vial out to him. "It's a calming draught."

Aphrodite took it with trembling hands and downed the lot and also took the mint sweet Alcedo offered.

"Now," Alcedo said, turning towards his debutee. "Remember everything we discussed earlier. Try to relax, I promise it won't be nearly as bad as I'm sure you're imagining. Malfoy is undoubtedly an evil bastard, but he's also a good customer and has a good relationship with the House. He's not about to do anything to endanger it. Knowing what a pompous ass he is he'll shower you with gifts, good food and alcohol and invite you back next week to show you off to the rest of the pompous brigade."

Aphrodite smiled weakly.

Alcedo gave Aphrodite's shoulder a reassuring squeeze."This is what we do; entertain the rich and in return enjoy the benefits. Go enjoy yourself. After this you can decide what parties you do and don't want to go to."

"Within reason." Mrs. Pendragon grumbled, but the reassurance seemed to work, or maybe it was the calming draught, either way Aphrodite was looking a lot happier.

"Thanks." He replied, taking a deep breath as he headed towards the fireplace.

Mrs. Pendragon took a pinch of floo powder and threw it into the flames, calling for Malfoy Manor. "Good Luck."

Alcedo, Ardor and Almus added their own sentiments. "You look stunning." I told him.

He stepped back into the fire and I watched as 'the mask' took over him and for a moment I saw that completely calm elegance that I'd witness the night before. Then he was gone in a flare of green flames.

HPSSHPSSHPSSHPSS

The next few days passed in a flurry of activity until finally, the evening of Peter's Debut arrived. After dinner, we dressed Peter in his new satin and silk robes, their fiery sunset colours gave his skin a health glow and the intricate golden thread embroidery depicted many suns and falling autumn leaves. His make-up was applied in shades of gold, bronze and browns and his arms were decorated with gold-coated maple leaves. The whole attire, while stunning, was less elaborate than Aphrodite's had been for his private debut. It was traditional to apply less make-up and jewellery to the younger students in order to keep their their appearance more youthful and innocent. I pinned the traditional bells to the end of his long plait and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. He looked back at me nervously and I felt a mixture of pity and envy in the knowledge that in two weeks I would be in exactly the same position.

We made our way down the the formal meeting room, where the whole Household were gathered including the maids and houselves. There was an elder from the temple waiting for us. She was a very old lady who reminded me vaguely of the one who'd spoken to me that night back at the Dursley's. She had a humped back and a walking cane, and her rich purple robes looked out of place on her wrinkled old body. She held a roll of parchment sealed with a purple ribbon and wax stamp and stood there waiting patiently, for what I wasn't sure. A moment later the fireplace crackled and flared green, and a man in a white robe with the unicorn's crest stepped into the room.

"Ah. Sorry I'm late." He said greeting Mrs. Pendragon with an enthusiastic handshake. "Last name-reading over-ran a bit I'm afraid. Awful business, poor mite just couldn't keep his food down. Nerves, I think."

The old lady cleared her throat.

"Ah yes, of course." The man nodded. "When you're ready."

The old lady squinted at us dubiously. "Where's the boy?"

Mrs. Pendragon pushed Peter forward and he stood tall and still before the lady as she inspected him. Then shakily pulled the roll of parchment open.

"What is your name boy?" She said without glancing up.

"Peter Brown." He replied. I was startled. I never heard Peter use his second name, he was always Peter Pendragon at the Academy.

"Peter Brown, you have been payed for, provided for, and educated by the House of Pendragon. You now request to become an Artisan and become a student of this House. To do this you must agree to the title of Debutee and foresake your name, to train under the watchful eye of your mentor." The old lady recited, her voice surprisingly strong. "Who is your mentor?"

Alcedo stepped forward. "I Alcedo Pendragon, agree to mentor Peter Brown, until such time as he gains his Artisan mastership." He nudged Peter out of his trance.

"I Peter Brown agree to the title Debutee and foresake my name, to train under Alcedo Pengradon...until such time as I gain my mastership?"

The old lady nodded, satisfied with Peter's recital. "You shall no longer hold claim to Peter Brown" She told him sternly, "Instead you shall claim the name of Apollo Pendragon. Congratulations boy. Here." She thrust the parchment at the man from the authority and hobbled over to the fireplace and grumbled something before limping into the green flames.

The man in the white robes produced a quill from his pocket and handed it to Mrs. Pendragon, who signed the parchment along with two witnesses: Ardor and Aphrodite (who'd been usually quiet since his meeting with Malfoy). Alcedo also signed as his chosen mentor, then the quill was passed to Peter.

"Mr. Pendragon by signing here you recognise that you are removing yourself from any legal entitlement to the name 'Peter Brown'. You will from now on be legally acknowledged as Apollo Pendragon, until such a time as you become independent of your House or should chose to retire from your Artisan status. Should you break your contract you will be legally entitled to neither name. Do you understand?"

Peter, nodded and signed his old name and then his new name below it. The contract glowed bright red for a moment then vanished from sight.

"Congratulations and good luck to you." The man nodded to Peter, who bowed back quickly, and then he turned and the nodded to Mrs. Pendragon. "Good evening."

With the name reading over there was a mad rush to get to the theatre for Peter's performance. Mrs Pendragon had paid a fine price to secure the last slot of the evening and there was a more than reasonable turnout. I watched in awe as Peter performed his sunset piece flawlessly with both strength and grace as the cello played next to him, unhindered by a human intervention.

I rushed backstage as soon as the performance was over, barely waiting for the cheers to die down. Peter was sitting at a dressing table panting slightly and very flushed. He looked ridiculously happy.

I pounced on him, giving him a firm hug. "Congratulations! I can't believe it! You were completely perfect and the crowd loved it!"

He grinned back enthusiastically, still out of breath.

"What are you talking about? Your whole performance was completely amateurish!"

We spun around in surprise. Behind us stood a slim boy with light blonde-brown hair and blue eyes. He was smaller in height than Peter, more equal with me, and unfortunately, I recognised him all too well. His name was Lelan Galahad, a fellow student from the Academy who'd become a Debutee a few months ago. He was probably here to support his younger brother.

"What do they teach at your House?" Lelan asked, mockingly. "Your synchronisation was appalling, don't even get me started on fluidity, and have you even heard of flexibility? I bet you can't even touch your toes! If you were trying imitate a battle massacrer with those clashing shades of orange and red, then congratulations!"

Peter flushed bright red and looked both thoroughly mortified and angry. I grabbed his arm in comfort. "His performance was really good, the crowd thought so and as potential clients they're the only ones that matter!"

The boy just smiled cruelly in a way that reminded me of Ardor. "Well, that's because your so called 'potenial clients' would have been satisfied with anything! No class at all...not like the turnout I received."

He didn't give me time to reply as he glided off into the bustling changing room.

"Was it really that bad? You have to tell me the truth, as brothers. I don't want you to just say it was good to make me feel better." Peter demanded.

I groaned. "For merlin's sake, Lelan's just trying to get to you and apparently its working! You did really well and it WAS a good performance. So what if you're not as flexible as him? You danced with much more emotion and that's what counts. Just forget about what he said about the audience too. It was a great turnout and I think I even saw a few ministry officials."

"Really?" Peter asked, perking up a bit.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes! Now can we please get out of here and go home?"

Peter nodded, grabbing his Salto box and I followed behind as we went to find Mrs. Pendragon. I took one last glance back at the dressing room before we left and tried to imagine myself there in two weeks time. I felt a fluttering of excitement in the stomach and took a deep breath before following Peter out.

**AN/:** You didn't think I'd let Draco be the only one to making Harry's life a misery, did you? Poor Harry...troubles coming...


End file.
